


The Girl Who Loved the Colour Blue

by LaCroixLime



Category: Eragon - Fandom, Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Superlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Is So Done, Crossover, F/F, F/M, I PROMISE THIS WILL MAKE SENSE AT THE END JUST TRUST ME PLEASE, M/M, btw if you guys know twist and shout this will break ur heart, help me, i apalogize so much for this, i feel so bad for cas all the time, i mean tim, i should be living my life but no have fun with this kids, im so sorry, please, sorry 'bout that, there's a lot in this, theres that one bitch tom, this is sorta au but like not??, try NOT to hate this i tried guys i really tried, wait no, woggly wiggly i sense no ingenuity, you know what who even cares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaCroixLime/pseuds/LaCroixLime
Summary: This is a story about a girl named Emily Rose. This is a crossover between the Harry Potter Universe, the Marvel cinematic universe, the tv show Sherlock, the tv show Supernatural, and the book series Eragon. This is going to be VERY long, so just stick with me. I hope you enjoy this.





	1. The Golden Field

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback would be amazing and suggestions are welcome. I'll be updating this whenever I can, but this won't be finished for a while. If you want to contact me feel free to message me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set 20 years after Emily's death. For background, Harry is 20, Eragon is 25 (set a few years after the books ended), the Avengers are present day age, (bear in mind that Thanos is not part of this that little purple shit) and Sherlock and John are as they were right after the events of the third season. Also season 13 of Supernatural is also excluded from this as I started writing this before it aired.

 

There was a tree in the field. It was quite tall, an oak, and had many strong limbs bursting with green. It was the only tree for miles around, the only landmark in sight. The tree was very old and had seen its share of hardship. It was under the tree that it happened.

Everything started under that tree.

The girl gave a gasp, like a fish returning to water. The first thing she heard was her heart beating steadily, giving off a loud  _ka-thump, ka-thump_ in the silent air. She sat up, looking around. She was in a field, under the one tree for miles around. It was a tall oak with still, long branches that reached out as if to hug the world. Its trunk was as wide as five people standing side by side, and as tall as six men. Ankle tall yellow grass brushed against her legs, oddly comforting in the still silence. The cloudless blue sky held a shining golden sun, its warmth spreading through her immediately.

The girl tried to recall how she had got here. What had she been doing? She couldn't remember. In fact, she didn't even know who she was; she couldn't conjure up a single memory. She started to panic. What had happened?

She noticed a sheathed sword lying next to her. The girl pulled the blade from its cover and admired the glittering silver metal. Runes were etched onto the blade, and she realized that she was able to read them.  _Moonlight._ That must be the name of the sword. But how could she read the runes? The girl put the sword back in its sheath, then stood up and instinctively slung the weapon over her shoulder. It fit perfectly along her back, its weight supported by her shoulder blades. 

She felt something in her pocket, beneath the dark leather jacket that hung close to her frame, so she reached into it and pulled out a long wooden stick. What was it, some kind of fancy driftwood? She put it back in her pocket, not willing to throw away any of her possessions yet.

Finally, she observed her surroundings- nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that stood out in sight was the tree she was under. The girl studied the oak closer, placing one pale hand on its trunk. As she did so, she remembered her name.

_Emily Rose._

 

The golden field stood still in time, holding the mysterious girl in its peaceful clutches. Despite the warmth of the sun and her jacket, Emily shivered. She had a strange feeling, as though someone was standing on her grave.

She wasn't the only one.

* * *

 Castiel blinked, trying to get the weariness out of his eyes. Though angels aren't supposed to get tired, Cas knew from first hand experience that hanging around the Winchesters would make any one exhausted, even if they were an ancient celestial being. He was sitting in the Men of Letter's bunker with Sam and Dean, reading up on the lore about Lucifer. They were paying particular attention to possession and what kind of powers his grace gave him. The devil had been causing so much trouble that Dean had been worried that they would never stop him, but a few days ago Lucifer had gone mysteriously silent. They were taking this opportunity to do as much research as they could, but nothing serious had popped up yet. Sam had gone to get a beer when Cas heard it: angel radio.

Alarms were going off in Heaven, sounding through each angel's head. Whoever was in charge of Heaven now was sounding the alarms for a high level threat. The limited amount of angels left were all contacting each other through the radio. They were talking about the dead... rising? Dead people, demons, angels, and everything in between, seemed to be returning to Earth. That was impossible. But they were talking about- 

Cas jumped up from his seat, his heart pounding. Dean looked up from his book, frowning slightly. "You okay there, Cas? You seem a little spooked."

Cas could barely hear him. His mind flashed back twenty years ago, when he had seen her. The powerful girl with the flaming red hair and silver eyes. But now she was back, along with hundreds of dead people. This was no coincidence. Cas had to help the angels, even if they hated him. 

"I... I have to go, Dean," Cas muttered. He turned and started for the door, but Dean stopped him.

"Whoa, whoa, you can't just take off like that," said the hunter. "What happened?"

Castiel just shook his head. His loyalty to the Winchester brothers came first, he had proved that time and time again, but he couldn't drag them into  _this_. This was something Cas had to do without his friends. Besides, they could get hurt. Ironic, yes, but Cas still didn't want to involve them.

"I'll explain later. Just... don't try to follow me," Cas warned him.

Dean looked into the angel's startling blue eyes. "Alright, but don't do anything stupid, Cas."

*********

Dean turned to Sam, who had returned with his beer.

"Where's Cas?" asked the younger Winchester.

"Apparently, on a secret mission," answered Dean, grabbing his car keys. "And we're gonna follow him."

* * *

The Elven Kingdom had been peaceful for seven years. Seven. Years. Ever since the war with Galbatorix ended, the elves had generally been at peace. Though the lose of their late queen, Islanzadi, had effected all in the great forest, life had moved on. It always did, except for Arya. She had taken up the mantel of queen when her mother died, and had also become a Dragon Rider. She kept herself busy so she could keep the grief away. It helped when Eragon would pop over once in while since he had found a way to visit Alagesia from wherever the hell he was now. It's good that magic can do things like that.

Arya was relaxing against her dragon, Firen, when she heard it. The voices. A commotion was stirring in the forest, making the wind dance with words. Arya stood up, her black hair getting tousled in the wind, just as a messenger raced onto the field.

"Your Majesty," he cried, with a lot more excitement than an elf normally showed. "There is something you need to see."

As always when trouble happened, Arya thought of the time when... when...

Arya still had trouble thinking about it. Her sister's cold body, pale and heavy in her arms. No fire left in her. The field where they left her, the downpour of rain almost drowning them. It had been one of the worst days in her life. After that, Arya was no longer the perfect daughter. She fought with her mother constantly, especially after Evandar died. Finally having enough, Arya had joined the Varden as a rebel and fought the tyrant Galbatorix in the war. But, like all great adventures, it ended and she returned home. Now everything was different.

Arya walked briskly after the messenger, who lead her to the Menoa tree, where Eragon had once found a sheet of star metal. It seemed like millions of years ago, when they were still free. A huge crowd of elves were crowded around the tree, but they made room for Arya. Their faces, which were usually impassive and blank, were full of shock and confusion. When Arya reached the base of the tree, she understood why.

Standing there, looking as regal as ever, was Islanzadi. And she was very much alive.

* * *

Harry laughed as Ron finished another joke, his glasses almost falling off his face. Pushing them back on, he glanced around the Burrow. Ginny was talking to Hermione and Bill, her long red hair tucked in a neat braid down her back. They had been together ever since the Battle of Hogwarts ended three years ago, and were visiting the Burrow with Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family. It had been a long while since they had all been together, what with their jobs and all. It was august, so Hogwarts would be starting a new term soon. Hermione was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and would be leaving soon. Harry and Ron were taking a well earned break from their new jobs as Aurors, so the time to get together was well thought of.

Everybody was in a good mood; Bill had just announced the birth of his second child with Fleur. Everyone was celebrating and having a good time, until the patronus came. It was a graceful lynx, so it must be Kingsley's. 

The lynx swirled in the air, wisps of white smoke melting around it. It landed in the middle of the main room, its light feet leaving no marks on the bright carpet. It turned to face Harry, it's bright head tilting to one side. "He's back. He's back. Tom Riddle has returned."

Harry couldn't breath. He couldn't move, couldn't think or speak. He had dreaded those words ever since he had killed Voldemort, though he never thought they would come true. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gave a little shriek, and all eyes turned to Harry. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath.

"We need to go to the Ministry. Now," Ron said, grabbing Harry's arm. "Don't assume anything until we know what's what."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed it again.

"I'm coming too," Hermione stated. The three of them locked eyes, not needing words to communicate, then hurried to the door while the rest of the room burst into an angry chatter. Ron reached for the handle, but the door swung open before he could touch it.

And in the doorway stood Fred Weasley.

* * *

Sherlock had been pacing across the luxurious room for an hour. What was taking Mycroft so long? The older Holmes brother had dragged Sherlock and John in the middle of the night to the Diogenes Club, and had kept them waiting for sixty-four minutes and twenty-six seconds with no explanation what so ever.

"Maybe we should just leave," John suggested from where he was sitting by the fireplace. "I mean, we've been here for an hour." His short frame was silhouetted by the flickering flames behind the grate, his cropped blond hair turning a soft orange in the light.

Before Sherlock could reply the door swung open, and in came Mycroft. His cold brown eyes settled upon his younger brother and his face twitched slightly. What was the emotion trying to break through the ice man's face? 

"So sorry to keep you waiting, little brother, but I just had a long talk with the Prime Minister to deal with," Mycroft drawled, settling himself in an empty chair and gesturing for Sherlock to do the same. Sherlock sighed and sat in one, folding one long leg over the other. The three men faced each other in a sort of small triangle, non equal to the other.

"So, what's all this about then? Or did you just drag me here for a laugh?" snarked the younger Holmes.

Mycroft had done this once or twice, but never for as long a time before. The older Holmes would not look at Sherlock, and instead fixated his gaze on the fire.

"A recent disturbance has caused... disruption... on many levels of the government," Mycroft stated. "Scotland Yard is being notified as we speak, but this problem can not just be handled by the police. The secret service will be involved, as will the FBI."

That was a statement. If the Americans were getting involved with British problems, than something big must have gone down. Maybe it was terrorists, or another nation threatening nuclear war. These were only of few of the detective's deductions.

"Alright," said John, leaning forward slightly. "But that still doesn't explain why you called us here and won't let us leave."

Mycroft shuffled his feet awkwardly. "That's because part of this disruption poses a particular threat to the both of you." 

He finally raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's.

"You see, hundreds people are back from the dead, including James Moriarty."

* * *

Loki looked out of the window, his breath fogging up the glass. His shoulder was cold from its contact with the window, but he stared out at the grounds anyways. His green and gold leather armor was splattered with mud and now melted frost from when Stark had knocked him to the ground.

He was in a heavy lock-down in the Avenger's facility after arriving there with Thor. Midgard wasn't very different from the last time he had been there. But what was this "Abba", and why was everyone listening to it? Anyways, his brother had assured him it would only be this way until he could talk to Stark, who had almost killed the trickster god when he walked through the gate. Hence the mud. They had stuffed him in the 'secure guest room', and so there he was now. Apparently, the Avengers were not as forgiving as Thor.

Something big was going down in the yard. Loki saw people arguing with each other, their hands waving about as though swatting flies. The new one, a young boy with messy brown hair, was holding up a smart phone to Captain America, pointing at the tiny screen as he spoke. Whatever news the boy was showing him, Loki could tell it wasn't good. 

He heard loud footsteps and turned his head to see Thor enter with a glowering Stark and Banner flanking him. Loki smiled, opened his arms as if for a hug, and said, "So, what's the big decision, then? Am I allowed to join the team?"

Stark glared at him and crossed his arms over the glowing metal piece in his chest. Banner seemed too preoccupied to notice what Loki had said.

"Loki," Thor said a little frantically, and something in his voice unnerved Loki, and his smile flickered. "Something's happened. We don't know exactly what, or how, but..."

Loki had a deep, internal sense of foreboding, and almost asked Thor to stop.

The thunder god took a deep breath, then finished his sentence. "The dead have risen. We don't know how, or why, but with them is... her." 

Loki stopped smiling. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Islanzadi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Islanzadi call Eragon back to Alagaesia. They start to look for Emily. Loki makes a deal.

Arya and her mother sat around a small table by the Dragon Rider's hut. The long green grass tickled their feet with each passing breeze. Giant, ancient trees surrounded the small clearing, their strong branches waving at the sky lazily. There was a slight chill in the air, which was unusual for that time of year. Firnen, the emerald green dragon Arya was bonded to, was resting nearby, curious about the appearance of the old Elf Queen. Arya studied her mother- she couldn't believe she was real. Her neat raven-black hair, much like Arya's, swayed in the wind. Her cheeks had a slight tinge to them, a sign that blood still flowed through her veins. News had reached the forest of the elves about the appearance of the dead. Apparently, Islanzadi was not the only one to have awoken, which was extremely troubling.

Islanzadi was looking at the green dragon, her honey-brown eyes soft in the light. She was methodically tapping the edge of the wooden table, sending a light  _tap_ through the afternoon air.

"Mother, I'm just saying..."

"No, Arya. We can not get our hopes up."

_Tap tap._

"But if we just checked-"

"I said enough. We have more pressing matters than... than past events." 

There was a pause.  _Tap tap._

"All our lives we have been taught that no magic can raise the dead. It is in our history books, our songs, our art, even our very souls. All who have tried before have failed, it is known throughout the world. How, than, has this happened? How have you, and hundreds of others, returned from the grave?" Arya asked softly. 

Islanzadi stopped tapping, and sighed. She wouldn't look at Arya. "I doubt that we will ever know, my child. All we can do is try to find this source of... astonishing power, and neutralize it."

"Even if it means that you might die again?"

Her mother stood up. "We can not dwell on matters like that. All we can do is try." She looked down at Arya and frowned slightly. "And I will need you to do most of the trying."

Arya frowned too. "What am I supposed to do? Travel throughout the land and ask if anyone is raising the dead?"

"You will go to Midgard."

Arya stared at her mother. "What?" 

"We need to know exactly how far this, ah, _event_ has spread. If people are returning from the dead there, than this is much worse then I fear."

"When... when would I leave?" she asked.

"First light tomorrow," said her mother. "I will take care of the kingdom until this  _crisis_ is fixed."

Arya stood up, suddenly angry. "All my life I have done as you commanded. I went where you sent me, did what you told me to do. After you died, I carried on your legacy, doing my duty even after you were gone. I have suffered so much these past few years. So, tell me, why should I just hand everything over to you, and do as you bid me, like the way it was _before_?"

Her mother did not answer immediately. Instead, her eyes trailed the path of a bright blue butterfly as it passed over their heads, landing on a nearby flower. "During the end of that battle, when I knew I was going to die, I thought about the day you were born. You were a tiny baby, and were so light I thought the wind might carry you away. Your father had never been so happy. He held you in his arms so gently, so softly. You looked so peaceful there. I knew I would do anything necessary to keep that peace there. We elves pride ourselves on our advanced brains, but even we must sometimes succumb to emotion. During that battle, I thought of your peaceful face that day, and knew that the only way to keep you safe was to give myself to the void. So I did."

She took Arya's hands, staring deep into her eyes. "I am asking you to trust me, because right now, I am in the middle of a storm. We of the royal line have sacrificed so much for our subjects. We try our best, do what we can to make the world a better place. All I can do is try to keep this peace, but to do that I need _you_. So, my child, do you trust me?"

Arya looked away, her gaze drifting to the golden sun that filled up the sky. Trust. She had always been wary with her trust. But she thought of what her mother had said, about wanting to keep the peace. The only way to solve this problem would be to work with her mother. So, she said, "I will go, then. But I have one request."

"And what would that be?" asked Queen Islanzadi.

*********

"Eragon, please. I need you for this," Arya pleaded through the scrying mirror. "This could cause a lot of damage, and I-"

"The _dead_ are back? How? And _who_?" roared Eragon from the receiving end of the mirror. The blond Dragon Rider seemed to be taking the news pretty badly. Arya knew that he was thinking of his father, Brom, who had died a few years ago.

"Yes, I'll explain everything later, but I need you to come with me to Midgard. I need backup and I trust you the most."

"What the _hell_ is Midgard? And why would you even want to go there? Shouldn't we focus more on problems closer to home?"

"Please, I will explain everything later, but this could be a matter of life and death for many, so we _must_ leave quickly."

Eragon seemed to call down a bit. "Say I do come. How long will it be? I can't leave my students for long."

"It is only a quick check up. We shouldn't take more than a few days," Arya told him, not sure if she was lying or not. She  _hoped_ it would only take a few days.

Eragon was silent for a moment. "Alright, I'll come. But I can't take Saphira. She needs to be here to protect the dragonets."

Arya nodded. "Then Firen will take us. Meet me at the turn of the river where we first parted in two days."

"I will see you there. I have to go, I think Blasmer set the west tower on fire again," Eragon turned to go, then turned to glance at her again. "Are you ok, Arya?"

She blinked at him, trying not to let him see her emotions. "Of course I am. I am just a bit shocked about the dead, that is all."

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded, "If you say so," and left.

And with that, the mirror darkened, and Arya was left staring at a blank piece of glass. She carefully set the mirror down and left the old hut. Islanzadi had long since returned to the palace deep in the heart of the forest. The sky outside was black and filled with twinkling silver stars. She looked out at the dark field of grass and sighed. It was getting colder every moment, the darkness thickening with each passing second. 

Arya looked up at the great northern star, its light casting a brighter glow than that of the stars around it. It twinkled down at her in an almost secret way, as if to say, _Go, you have my blessing._

She had to find out if Emily was still alive. Whatever it took, she would find out.

And if she was, Arya would protect her. No matter what.

*********

"So this is it?" asked Eragon.

They were standing in the middle of the great plains before a tiny circle of stones. In the middle of the circle was a small ripple of air, almost as if there was a rip in the world.

"This is the entrance to Midgard," Arya answered. She had been here a long time ago with her mother, on their way to find Emily. That trip had not been fun, and Arya sensed that this one would be equally difficult. 

Arya and Eragon both had their swords as well as a small pack of supplies. Eragon didn't look much different from the last time Arya had seen him. His blond hair curled at the temple, his brown eyes full of warmth. He seemed more mature than when he had left. His journey, rough as it was, hadn't been able to take away the kindness that Arya had first experienced in Gilead all those years ago. He was a good friend, and could be something more, with time.

They approached the ripple carefully, their movements identical.

"So... we just go through?" Eragon questioned, peering at the rift.

Arya nodded. They looked at each other, then stepped forward into the rip. Together, as always.

They stepped out into a golden field under a giant oak tree. Arya's heart fell. She knew this place.

* * *

Loki sat across from Banner in the food hall- what did the humans call it? A kitchen. The metallic surfaces were so different from the wooden halls of Asgard that Loki had grown up in. Different too, from the cold stone slabs of Jotunheim. Loki was shocked. He hadn't spoken since they told him about Emily. How could she be alive? He thought she was dead. That's what Heimdall told them all those years ago. 

Now, she was back, and the Avengers were in pieces. Dead people were appearing left and right. Not as zombies, but as they had been before they died. The human's news was full of sightings and stories of supposed dead people. No one could offer an explanation. No one knew what was happening.

Even Loki, the god of mischief, was at a loss. This wasn't supposed to happen. Emily was supposed to have died, end of story. Time would move on, and Loki would go about his usual tricks and laughs in the safety of knowing she was dead. He wouldn't have to worry about seeing her; she couldn't come find him. But now time had stopped, and everything was far from what it was supposed to be.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Banner clearing his throat. "So, what are we supposed to do? I mean, who is this girl, and why should we care?"

Thor glanced at Loki, who glared back at him. Thor knew who Emily was, if only the, ah, _bare minimum_ of the facts.

"She's kind of an Asgardian legend," said Thor. "She can breath fire and has other magical powers. Very powerful. Very dangerous."

"Spooky," mumbled Stark.

"Indeed," agreed Loki. "But she hates Asgard, and Midgard as well. She tried to burn it all down, but failed. Odin killed her before she could destroy mankind."

This was a lie. That is what Odin told his subjects and the rest of the nine worlds. When Emily had entered Midgard, her presence had sent a flare through the nine worlds. They had been confused as to where this powerful girl had come from. Odin had put up a facade to keep his subjects calm, but the fool of an old man should have known it wouldn't keep forever. However, the Avengers didn't question his short tale.

"Well, maybe she's changed," drawled Stark, who was standing by the counter. "I mean, everybody seems to be changing these days." He glared at Loki. Apparently, Stark could hold a very long grudge. 

"No, she won't have changed," Loki shot back. "It's not in her nature." He hoped they couldn't see his hands shaking in his lap. The words hit closer to home than he would have liked.

"We need to find her," interrupted Thor.  

Stark and Banner nodded, but Loki kept his head still. He was scared; scared of what might happen now.

Thor was still making plans with Stark when Banner got up from the table. "I'm gonna go talk to Cap. Make sure he knows what's up."

The doctor had been strangely quiet the past few minutes, too lost in thought to participate much. He seemed to be lost in the 'coming back to life' concept. The man could turn into a giant green rage monster, but apparently zombies were beyond his comprehension. 

"I'll come with you," said Loki, grinning. "I'd love to talk to him again, and I could use the chance to stretch my legs." The mask slipped on easily, a second layer of skin for the god.

Banner looked unhappy at this, but Loki was already standing up. "Come on Banner, let's go greet the patriot."

Banner grumbled curses as he walked out of the room with Loki on his heels. Stark and Thor were too deep in conversation to notice them leaving.

As they reached the main doors down the hall, Loki grabbed Banner and pinned him to the wall. He quickly pressed the knife he had stolen from the kitchen against his throat.

"Don't make a noise, or I'll cut your throat," Loki breathed. Banner tensed, the monster inside of him raging for control. "Go on. Turn into the hulk. Show me that you have no control."

Banner didn't move. He didn't want to prove Loki right.

"Now open that door, nice and easy," the god commanded. 

Banner gave a stiff nod, and Loki moved away from him. Banner walked to the screen by the wall and entered a code. With a small  _beep beep,_  the lock clicked and the door swung open. Loki grinned. "Nice job, Banner."

He knocked the scientist out and left the building. He wouldn't stand still any longer. It was time for action.

* * *

The consulting criminal looked out at the busy London streets, the familiar bustling and busy setting simply glazing over his view. The light through the tall window created a pale reflection of him. His dark eyes seemed to stretch into an eternal abyss that swallowed up the streets and buildings through the glass. His gaze consumed the entire city, destroying anything in its path.

His hand clutched an old newspaper that announced the official death of the demon of London. "A terror now in the ground," it said.

But Jim Moriarty was very much alive.

 _How_ , he did not know, but he was determined to find out. And how did the famous criminal of London, the man who _almost_ beat the notorious Sherlock Holmes, feel about death? It had been a minor inconvenience. 

He stood very still by the window, his eyes following the fast moving figures that flew across the ground, thinking, thinking...

The board was set, the table laid. His newly created operation (started from scratch in the past few days), had been setting everything up nicely. He was waiting for just one more piece to add before he could start. Only one more move to make.

The door suddenly opened, and in walked his business partner, Loki. 

"So, it's true. You are alive," said the god, tilting his head, his hands on his hips. The magic that rolled off Loki still felt unnatural, one of the only things in the world that unnerved the criminal. But it was also intriguing; a source of power that could provide unlimited resources. 

"But you knew that already," drawled Moriarty, never turning from the window. "That's why you're here. I assume you want something?" 

"I want the same thing you do," said Loki, who sounded unnerved, as he always was around the criminal. He had that affect on people. "Revenge." 

There was a pause from Moriarty. Then, "Yes, I _suppose_ revenge would be nice. But I have a better idea."

"Oh? Do share."

"You want to make her pay, don't you? But _she_ doesn't know about us yet. _She_ doesn't know the _whole story_ , right?" He turned to study the god. "Don't you think that's a pity?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Don't you think she should know the truth?"

Loki's eyes widened. "Oh, I see," he thought for a moment, biting his lip. "She won't believe it."

"Not at first. But I know how to set her on that path. And once she gets there, she won't be able to turn back until we tell her what she wants to hear."

"Fine. But the end game is still the same. Emily dies," Loki told him. 

There wasn't much emotion in the conversation. It sounded like they were talking about the news, or the results of a sports game. Like it didn't matter enough to show a reaction. They were both superb actors. 

"Of course. In the end, she will die. _Permanently_ this time. But first, let's have some _fun_."

Loki nodded. He looked the criminal in the eye one last time, then turned and headed out the door.

Moriarty turned to look out the window again. "Let the game begin," he whispered. The smile that split his face was like blood on ice. 


	3. Wizards and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels confront Emily and Cas meets some interesting people.

Cas drove all day and night, stopping only for gas. His mind raced while he drove, trying to block the terror that was building up in his chest. If Rose was back, than did that mean other people were returning? And if people were rising from the dead, than what about angels? And... demons? 

If his brothers and sisters could return from the dead, maybe the angels were not doomed to extinction. As for the demons, did that mean Crowley would return? He didn't know if that was good or bad.

Cas suddenly saw something in the road and braked hard to avoid hitting it. As the car swerved to the side, Cas saw red hair glowing in the view of his headlights. He pushed open the door, drawing his angel blade from his pocket as he did so, slowly approaching the figure. Before he got far, the figure turned to face him, and Cas almost dropped his blade in surprise.

"Rowena?" he yelled, unable to keep his shock hidden.

"Oh, for all my luck, I have to meet you," sighed the witch, her Scottish accent familiar. Her brown eyes sparkled with tiny lights of anger. She was wearing a tight, ankle length black dress, the same dress she had been wearing when she died. Her curly ginger hair fell over her shoulder as she lifted her chin and said, "Are Sam and Dean with you?"

"Ummm... no. It's just me," Cas murmured. "Didn't Lucifer kill you? How did you... wait..." He realized that Rowena must have been brought back by whatever mysterious force had returned Rose from the dead.

"Well, all I know is that I woke up a few miles from here. I don't know how I got here. The last thing I remember was the Devil standing over me as I burned to a crisp," Rowena said, looking at his car instead of his eyes, a slight tremor to her voice. "Where are you headed without your precious hunters?"

"Angel business," Cas muttered.

"Well, could you at least lend me a ride to the nearest town?" she asked sweetly.

Rowena's appearance confirmed his suspicion that other people were coming back from the dead. He looked at the witch and sighed. Cas owed Rowena for saving his life, he couldn't turn her down now. 

"Just get in. I'll give you a lift."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "I see you haven't changed one bit, Castiel," and got into the car.

*********

Though he was running short in time, Cas kept his word and drove as fast as he could to the nearest town, which consisted of maybe fifteen buildings and a couple of barns. Ah, the beauty of Kansas. He drove into the gas station, then turned and glared at Rowena. "Will you go now?"

"Of course tweetie pie, I'll get out of your hair," she said, raising an eyebrow at his dashboard. "Might want to stock up on some gas while you're here, though."

Cas shook his head mutely, opening his car door. He stood in the afternoon breeze, squinting at the horizon, his short black hair ruffling in the wind. His brown trench coat, spotless as always, waved out behind him like a cape.

"I'll say it again, angel, you really are the good looking one," Rowena purred from the other side of the car. Cas turned to look at her, his sky-blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm just teasing you!" she laughed. "Look, Cas, I know we've had our differences, but if you find something on people like... like me, just give me a pop and I'll come over."

And with a wink and a swish of her dress, the witch turned and walked into the town, disappearing almost immediately. Cas stood there, looking after her for a moment, then started to fill up the tank of the car. Once he was done, he walked inside the store to pay. 

It was a small, messy place with a few aisles of snacks and whatnot, complete with a tiny counter, behind which stood an old man with a few grey hairs on his head. Out of date lotto cards made up the centerpiece of the large rack hanging on the counter. Crates and boxes were stacked up against the walls, taking up most of the unoccupied space. There were only two other people in the store; one a pale young man with short, wavy blond hair and sharp cheekbones, and a dark-haired woman with a proud figure and bronze skin. Both were tall and oddly dressed in leather jerkins and pants. They both had long scabbards attached to their belts. They seemed out of place in the dingy little store, as if they had sprung from the pages of a book straight into reality. They were out of this world.

The two strangers looked up as he entered, and his eyes met with the woman's startling oak-brown ones. Something about her gaze unnerved him. Cas started to slide his angel blade from his sleeve, never taking his eyes off of the woman.

"Will you be payin' anytime in the next week, young man?" the cashier asked loudly. For such an old man, he could really shout.

Cas blinked, then turned to the old cashier. "Uhh, yes I'd like to pay for my gas." The sudden interruption reminded him of the urgency of his situation. He handed over the cash to the man, then turned around and found himself face to face with the strange woman. He tightened his grip on his blade.

"You are not normal," she announced, her pupils slitting like a cat's. Cas saw her hand slide to the top of her scabbard, where the hilt of a sword lay. Behind her, the blond man did the same. "Who are you?" she asked. Her voice had a strange musical cadence, almost like a spell. Cas blinked to stay focused.

"You don't seem very normal either. Are you from around here?" Cas shot back. 

The blond man interrupted the woman before she could answer. "We are looking for a girl named Emily. She has red hair, silver eyes, and a silver star on her forehead. Have you seen her?" His accent was vaguely British, but blurred slightly. His blue eyes had a fire in them that Cas had seen in few people. There was a magic to him that seemed to seep out of his very essence. 

Cas opened and closed his mouth twice. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"We are looking for a girl named Emily Rose. Have you seen her?" the woman growled.

Cas let the blade fall fall openly into his hand, ready to fight. If these alien people were looking for Emily, then word had gotten out faster than Cas expected it too. They could be minions of the devil, or something equally terrible. Whoever they were, they were after Emily, and that was bad news.

"Oi, you talking about a girl named Emily? I had a couple of strong lookin' men walk in here 'bout an hour ago asking the same question. Haven't seen anyone like that. We don't get much people here, so I usually remember who comes in and all," the cashier interrupted, his voice breaking the tension. 

"Where did they go?" Cas asked without turning around. 

"They went north up the road. Who is this girl, anyways? Some sort of convict?"

Cas sheaved his blade and turned to walk out the door. Before he got to it, the woman grabbed his arm. "We're coming with you," she said in a commanding voice.

He shook her off. "No way, find your own way north."

"Please, we want to help her. I know Emily, I've known her almost all her life. If she really is back, I have to know. I have to _help_ her."

The sincerity in her voice caught Cas off guard. He looked deep into her eyes and saw that she meant it. For better or for worse, this woman wanted to help Emily. Cas imagined going up against Rose alone, and gritted his teeth. He could use all the help he could get.

"Alright, follow me." 

* * *

Emily stopped at a four way intersection, frowning. Which way should she go? There was nothing but wheat and fences in every direction, with no landmarks or signs of any kind. The sun was almost directly above her, so she didn't know what direction she was heading in. She ended up doing _eeny, meeny, miny, moe_ , and turned left. As she walked, Emily took the sword off of her back and attached it to her belt. Her back was starting to hurt from the bouncing of the heavy metal. She tried to concentrate on regaining a memory, any memory at all, but her mind was blank. The golden field was about an hours walk behind her, but Emily didn't want to stick around in that creepy place. It felt off there, like the world was slowly unbalancing under her feet.

She was lost in thought about that feeling until the twig went  _snap!_ Emily paused, twisting her head to look around. At first there appeared to be nothing. Then she saw the figures in the wheat patches, slowly walking toward the fence that separated the road from the grain field.  _How did they sneak up on me like that?_   Emily wondered as she stood and watched the figures approach. No point of running if she didn't know where she was going. There were five of them, each wearing a gray coat and holding a short silver blade in their hands. Emily drew her own sword in response.

"Who are you?" she demanded, ready to defend herself.

The lead figure, a man, stepped forward. He had dark chestnut skin and wore a long grey coat that nearly touched the ground. His head was completely bald and his eyes were stone-grey. "Put down that sword, Rose," he demanded, ignoring her question. "Before someone gets hurt."

 _Someone is going to get hurt wherever I put this down or not,_ Emily thought. She didn't speak, but narrowed her silver eyes instead.

"We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. Surrender and answer for your crimes, or we will use force," the man warned.

Something sparked inside of Emily, a tiny fire lit by her anger. These mysterious people would never listen to anything she said even if she tried to explain her situation. She had a gut instinct that they were dangerous and would kill her at a moments notice. She raised one pale eyebrow. "The hard way, then."

The five people charged. Emily sliced her sword in a wide arc at the first one to reach her and cut him deep in the chest. He staggered backward, screamed, and a jet of blue-white light escaped from his mouth. Before she could fully process this, Emily ducked as the second and third people reached her and swung at her head. She dropped and rolled, coming up on one knee and stabbed upward, aiming true at one's heart. The same scream and blue-white light escaped him too. Emily stood up and blocked the next jab from the third person, then feinted right and stabbed him in the stomach. Emily heard something behind her, and turned to see the fourth angel lunging at her. She instinctively opened her mouth, breathing a wreath of flame onto him. This time, there was no light or a high pitched scream as the body landed on fire to the ground, twitched, and was still. She stood there, staring down at the flaming body

_Did I just breath fire?_

Suddenly, she felt a hot jab of pain in her left arm as the bald man stabbed her in her shoulder. She turned, eyes blazing with anger, but before she could stab him through the heart a gunshot rang out in the air, and the man fell at her feet with a flicker of light, a bullet in his head. Emily looked up to see two men, one tall with long brown hair, the other bulky with startling green eyes, standing a few yards away. The bulky one had a gun in his hand. Emily fell to one knee, clutching her shoulder, more in shock than in pain. What had she just done? How the hell had she known how to use a sword, or breath flames? She started to panic, her breath coming quicker and quicker.

"Hey, hey, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked. Emily looked up and saw the tall man crouch down next to her. She looked into his eyes and saw worry and... fear. This man, a stranger, was afraid of her. That hit hard, hard enough to bring her back to reality.

She looked away from him, down at the the man she had burned. He was ashes now. 

"Who are you?" the man asked, drawing her attention again. 

"I... my name is Emily. Emily Rose," she answered in a calm, clear voice.

"How did you get here, Emily?"

"That's it, though, isn't it?" she said, gritting her teeth. "I can't remember anything."

He blinked, startled. "You can't remember anything? Really?"

"I woke up about two hours ago in a field without a single memory. I only know my name."

The men exchanged glances with each other. "How did you do that to those angels? I've never seen anyone blow fire like that before," the short man asked in a skeptical voice.

"I don't know," Emily answered honestly. She had no clue on how she had done that. It had been instinct, just like her use of the sword.

"You should come with us. There are more of them around here looking for you, I bet. You're going to want someone to look at that shoulder, anyways," the tall man said, offering her his hand.

 _Well,_ Emily thought.  _What other option do I have?_ She took the man's hand and stood up.

As she got a clear look at them, she started to notice little details. Both men had strong, calloused hands that constantly drifted to their weapons. They didn't have a military build, but rather a rowdy country boy air that said they were not very disciplined. So well armed and used to fighting and danger, but not military or part of a large fighting force. Their flannel shirts were clean but well worn, similar to their other clothes. No wedding bands or other rings adorned their hands, so neither were married. The way they looked at each other and moved told her they were related. Brothers, since the closeness in their age and features eliminated most other relative relations. The way they moved, walked, and spoke brought only one word to her head.  _Hunters._ But what they hell did they hunt?

 _Whoa, stop it_ , her mind said, trying to slow her whirling brain. She didn't know exactly what just happened, or how she had noticed all those little details. Maybe she was just really observant. 

"I'm Sam, by the way. That's my brother Dean," the tall man told her, nodding his head at the other, interrupting her thoughts.

 _Huh. So I was right,_ she thought.

As they walked down the road to where their car was, Dean asked, "By any chance, have you seen a tall, blacked haired man wearing a trench coat anywhere?"

"No, I haven't. Sorry," Emily replied, confused by the question. Dean nodded, looking strangely troubled. The three of them got into an old black car and drove off into the ending afternoon under a clear blue sky.

* * *

Harry Apperated on the side of a road in America, his wand at the ready. The Ministry had sensed an alert here and had sent them, the Aurors, to investigate. Kingsley thought that the person they were looking for, some convict girl, might be here. The setting sun blinded his eyes for a moment, too bright against the blue sky. Fields of golden grain waved at him from behind a fence, their tall stalks visited by dragonflies and other insects. Ron appeared next to him, looking around in bewilderment. "Bloody hell, what happened here?"

On the ground were four bodies and one charred form that was unidentifiable at their distance. There was blood staining the grey pavement, and the faint smell of smoke filled the autumn air. Harry cautiously approached the charred form and bent down to take a better look at it. Now that he was up close, he could see that it had definitely been a human, but the face was so charred and burned that they would never be able to tell who. Next to it was a small, short blade that shined in the sunlight. Harry picked it up and studied it. He had never seen anything like it before. 

"Oi! This one's still alive!" Ron called from across the field. Harry and the other two Aurors hurried to his side. A man with bright blond hair was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. One hand was clamped over the stab wound in his stomach, which was sending a steady trickle of blood down his side. 

"Help him," Harry commanded. "He needs medical attention immediately, and he might know something about the attack."

The two other Aurors did as they were told and started to fuss over the man's wound. He slowly lifted his head, meeting Harry's gaze. The man's eyes glowed with a supernatural blue light. Harry took a step back and the man gave a little laugh. "Don't waste your time on me, boy," he gave a rasping cough, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "You should be going after that damn girl."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. "Who are we supposed to be going after?" Ron asked.

The man glared at him. "Emily Rose, of course. Isn't that the reason you're here?"

Harry stood still, not wanting to break the man's gaze. For a long moment, they just stared at one another, then the man's eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. "Get him to the Ministry, now!" Harry commanded.

The four of then Disapperated, and the only thing Harry could think about were the man's glowing blue eyes. One thing was for sure: he wasn't human.


	4. Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily meets Loki.

Emily squirmed in her chair, uncomfortable in the large, cold bunker. The grey interior was depressing, for Emily did not like the underground. Across the table she was at sat Sam and Dean Winchester, one relaxed and one stiff. One was tall and one short, both with equal expressions of suspicion and curiosity. Their eyes of brown and green were unsettling from across the metal surface, as there was nothing for her to hide behind.

"You don't remember anything?" asked Sam.

Emily stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "As I have said before. Many times. NO," she spat, annoyed. Her arm, which had been bandaged and cleaned by Dean, still throbbed slightly whenever she moved. The pain, however, was nothing compared to the her annoyance at being interrogated by these strange men.

Sam put his hands up, surrendering. "Ok ok, I just wanted to make sure."

"Soo..." said Emily, as Sam leaned back in his chair again, taking a sip of his beer. "Are you going to explain what just happened to me in that field, or..."

Sam nodded at Dean. "So, the deal is... Dean and I are hunters."

"So you 'hunt' gingers with amnesia?" scoffed Emily, sure that these guys were pulling her leg.

Sam sighed. "No. We hunt demons, werewolves, vampires, and other types of supernatural monsters or beings."

"Are you're saying that the things that go bump in the right are real?"

Dean nodded. "And more. Cas, our friend, is an angel. And those men who were hunting you, they were also angels, though not as friendly."

Emily noticed that her mouth was hanging open, so she shut it. "And I'm supposed to believe that?" 

"You can breath fire, have a magic sword, and mysteriously woke up in a field with no memory TODAY," Sam said. "You really can't believe this?"

Emily thought for a moment, turning over the events from the past hour in her mind. "What I believe and what I do not believe is based on my experiences. Since I _have_ no experiences I should rely on proof. I have all the proof I need from today. So yeah, I guess I can believe in the supernatural."

The brothers were quiet for a second. Then Dean, giving her an appraising glance, said, "Since you seem to be a great thinker, let me ask you this. Why do you think those angels attacked you?"

"How should I-" Emily started before Sam interrupted her.

"Dean, we can't ask her that. You heard her before, she doesn't know anything. Leave her be."

"I'm just saying, Sam, we need to know the full extent of this. If angels are after her, what about demons? What about Lucifer?"

"Lucifer?" Emily asked, bewildered.

"Yeah, the Devil," Dean said. "Look, he's lose and pretty freaking powerful right now. Who knows what he could be up to?"

"Yeah, no. Why would the devil be after me?" 

Sam shuffled in his seat. "Well, that's the point, we don't know. You can't remember anything, and we have no info what so ever on him. Anything could be possible, but it's just as likely he _isn't_ after you as he is."

There was a pause.

Emily frowned, trying to gather her thoughts. "Am I safe here, then?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look that Emily didn't like. "Well, they  _may_ look for you here, but this place it very well protected. It's the safest place you can be right now, if angels are hunting you."

She slowly nodded. She wasn't exactly scared, more like curious. "Alright. Enough of this crap right now. If this truly is the safest place for me, than can I get some rest? I'm exhausted." This was true. The state of constant confusion and action was finally taking its toll on the young girl.

"Yeah, of course. I'll show you to the guest room," Sam said, standing up and giving her a kind smile.

Dean pulled out his phone. "Go ahead, Sammy. I'm gonna go look for Cas. He isn't answering any of his calls, and what with the events of today, I don't think he should be wandering off on his own."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean was already heading to the door. "See you later, kid," he called back to Emily, and left. The iron door closed behind him with a loud thud, the sound magnified in the large, empty bunker.

* * *

Emily sat on her bed, leaning against the cool wall, thinking. So far today, she had battled to the death against supernatural beings, been hauled off to a secret bunker, and told that the Devil exists and  _may_ be hunting her. Not to mention all of that happening with her having no memory. It had been a very stressful, very emotional day.  _They may look for you here._ No matter what the Winchesters said, Emily did not feel "safe" in this cold, quiet bunker. If she was being hunted she needed to know exactly what was happening to her. She didn't think she would be able to accomplish that here.

Emily stood up and packed the extra bag Sam had given her and slung it over her shoulder. In it was some water, a blanket, some extra clothes, and a bundle of cash she had stolen from Sam when he showed her the guest room. She slung her sword across her back and patted her pocket to make sure the wooden stick was still there. Somehow, it was. She silently crept out of the room and closed the door behind her, sneaking down the hallway.

She couldn't stay here, in this place of sadness and isolation, its bland ways surrounding her  at every turn, the constant presence of death and emptiness in the air. She had to find out for herself, no matter what, who she was and what she was getting into. Or worse, what she was already in.

She walked through the kitchen into the main room. Some books from earlier were lying on the table, looking old and musty. As Emily reached the middle of the room, a voice called out behind her.

"Emily, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

Emily turned to face the hunter. "I'm leaving. I can't stay here, Sam. You and Dean have been very kind to me, but I have to know what's happening and I don't think I'll find out here."

Sam gave her a small, sad smile. "You remind me a lot of Cas, trying to head off on your own to fix your problems. Emily, we _want_ to help you solve this. We can help you find out what you want, I promise. Here, you can be safe. But out there, anything could happen," he took a step forward and held out his hand. "At least stay until Dean and Cas come back, then we can work this out  _together_."

Emily looked out at his outstretched hand, wondering if she should take it, wondering if they could really help her. Something deep down inside her told her that they couldn't. They couldn't help her with what was about to come, even though she didn't know herself what that would be. She had to do this alone. Or so she thought.

Sam took another step toward her. "Please, Emily. Stay. If you go out there, you will get hurt. Don't do that to yourself." His eyes told her he was completely sincere, in wanting to help her and of knowing the pain in the outside world.

"Something tells me I'm gonna get hurt no matter what," Emily said in a small voice. "I'm sorry, Sam. I really am."

She reached out and hit him in the head with one of the heavy books on the table. He fell to the ground, and Emily checked to make sure he was ok. She stood up, looking down at him.

"I'm sorry," she said again, then turned and walked out of the bunker into the cold, clear night.

She should have listened to the hunter.

* * *

Dean drove to the little town he and Sam had passed earlier when following Cas. They hadn't stopped there, but had kept driving on ahead and had eventually run into Emily. Now, Dean decided to drop by it in case Cas had stopped there. It was a place to start, at least. He pulled into the little parking lot by a gas station and got out of the Impala into the cold evening air. He headed up the main road, deciding to look around first. The light summer breeze didn't do much against his coat and flannel, but the people around him sure gave him funny looks. They muttered as he passed, wondering what a stranger was doing in town at this time of day. Didn't he have better things to do? He stopped a few and asked if they had seen a tall, black haired man wearing a brown trench coat anywhere. None had, and some even neglected to talk to him. 

He made his way to the gas station where his car was parked, and decided to pay it a visit. It was a small, dingy store with no customers. The person behind the counter, an old man with almost no hair on his head, looked up as he entered. 

"Hello there, young man. You be needin' some gas today?" he asked Dean.

"No, thanks," Dean told him. "I'm just looking for someone. A tall man, with short black hair and blue eyes wearing a trench coat. Seen him anywhere?"

The old man squinted at him, as if trying to see his face better. "Yeah, actually, I have. Fellow came in earlier today, lookin' for some girl, and left with a young man and woman. Said he was headin' north."

"A young man and woman? Who?"

The man shrugged. "I dunno. One had blond hair, the other black. Both were askin' about that girl your friend was lookin' for."

Dean nodded. "Thank you. Oh, and if anyone else comes in asking about that 'girl', it would be best not to say anything." And on that note, he turned around and went back to his car. Dean pulled out his phone and tried Cas's number again. 

"Dean?" Castiel's gravely voice sounded from the phone.

"Cas! Finally, I've called you like six times. What happened? You alright?"

"I'm fine, Dean. Look, I'm doing something really important right now so I don-"

"I know about Emily, Cas. That is who you were looking for, isn't it?"

Cas was silent for a moment. "How did you know that?"

"Sam and I followed you, you were acting really suspicious."

"DEAN!"

"Relax, relax, she's fine. We found her fighting some angels, so we took her back to the bunker. Sam is with her right now."

"Where are you then?"

"I'm out looking for you. I'm at a little town right by where we found Emily."

There was a pause, and Dean heard some muffled words from the other end of the phone. "Cas?"

"Stay there," Cas answered. "I'll come and meet you."

"Alright, but before you go, can I ask one thing?"

"Fine."

"Who is Emily?"

There was a long end of silence from Cas. "She's bad news, Dean. Really bad news."

* * *

Emily thanked the woman in the car- she had given Emily a ride to a small town called Alma, just inside of Nebraska, saying "Oh, what's a little thing like you doing wandering around these parts? Let me give you a ride home, darling." She watched as the car drove into the distance, then headed into the town, clutching a newspaper in her hand. She found a little diner opened 24/7 and got a table. It was pretty early in the morning, so not many people were there. The only customer was a young man sitting by the window, sipping some tea.

Something about him seemed a little off. He looked normal enough, with shoulder length black hair slicked back on his head, and eyes the colour of frozen coffee. He wore a black and white suit with a long overcoat, which was a bit odd in the summer heat. He looked up as Emily entered the diner, nodded, then went back to his tea. Emily ordered a small coffee and sat at a booth in the back of the restaurant. The waitress brought her coffee then went into the back.

Emily looked at the newspaper she had gotten from the woman earlier. She had been looking at it all morning, but still couldn't process what she was reading. Under the headline was a picture of a smoking building, all in ruins. She read the article again.

**Bombing in Britain: The Next Shell Centre?**

Last evening, an explosion was heard across London as the Heron Tower exploded. One hundred and sixteen people were killed and another fifty-nine injured. There had been a meeting between three rivaling firms, so more people were there than regular. Half of the building has been blown off, leaving a huge smoking mess in central London.

Eye-witness Peter Crown says, "There was this huge boom, and I felt the ground shake. I turned around and saw the tower smokin', with fire blazing out the windows." 

Scottland Yard says that the explosion was caused by a pack of very high powered explosives hidden in the center of the building. Though unsure of who caused this crime, a suspect has already been named. The same sort of bombing happened about twenty-five years ago, but on Shell Centre. Most citizens will remember how the building exploded in the same way that Heron Tower did, killing ten innocents. However, found at the center of the burned building was a young girl, who admitted to the crime while laughing. She mysteriously disappeared before being arrested, and the police never found out who did it. Only her description remains. (See: Drawing 1A)

Now they have accused her of the more recent bombing. Detective-Inspector Greg Lestrade says, "This is the same style as before. We warn anyone who sees this girl _not_ to approach her, but to call the police immediately. At the moment, we have our best people out looking for her."

Another suspect named is the criminal James Moriarty, one of the country's most top wanted men. Though his death was confirmed by the government months ago, rumors of his death being faked have already begun to circulate. There have been no more suspects named as of now.

This crime is so great that the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, has been called in to help find the culprit. He is best known for- (Continued on page 3).

Emily had read the article about Sherlock Holmes. He had solved some of London's most puzzling cases and had gotten famous over the internet. He worked with John Watson, a former army doctor. Emily wasn't scared of him though. From what the papers said, he didn't seem to have any special powers like those angels who had been chasing her. He was just really smart. Besides, she was in America, far away from him.

Emily knew she hadn't bombed Heron Tower. But from what the paper said, she had been found laughing in the center of the first bombing scene. Had she really done that all those years ago? Was she a killer? She didn't think so, didn't want to believe that she was capable of something like that. But the fact remained that she couldn't remember.

Someone slid into the booth across from her, and she looked up to see the man who had nodded to her when she came in. He looked at the paper she was reading, and smiled. His smile was serpentine and wolfish at the same time. 

"Ah, I heard about that. It's such a pity no one has been arrested yet," said the man, nodding at the article. His accent was very British, his voice smooth and entrancing like a lullaby. 

Emily didn't say anything, instead folding up the newspaper and laying it to the side.

"Do you think they will ever catch the person who did it? The police, I mean."

 _Why are you talking to me?_ she thought

"I wouldn't know," she finally said. "As I just don't care."

The man laughed. "What a philosophy! But you do care, deep down, about what happens to those people, don't you? After all, it's human nature."

"You talk as if you aren't human."

The man raised an eyebrow. "But I am not, Emily. And nor are you. You know that."

They faced each other, a small, defiant girl against the tall, devious man. They both sat slightly leaned forward, their hands clasped on the table in front of them, their feet planted firmly on the ground. Emily was starting to get a bit worried. She didn't say anything, but her eyes must have betrayed her feelings.

"Oh, you don't remember?" A slow grin spread across the man's lean face, and he leaned forward even closer. "That _is_ wonderful. You don't remember who you are?"

"I... who are you? How do you know my name?" Emily demanded, trying to focus.

He grinned and spread his arms. "I am Loki, god of mischief and the rightful king of Jotunheimr."

There was a moment of silence, and the only thing Emily could think to say was, "What a stupid title."

Loki's grin faded and he leaned back slightly. "Let's just cut to the chase. You want to find out about your past, I assume? I can help you with that. I can give you secrets you never thought were possible, or magic that dates back before the existence of this planet. All you have to do is come with me."

Emily did not answer immediately. Even though she could see this man was dangerous, she felt slightly drawn to him. It was hard to admit to herself that for a moment, if only a moment, she was tempted. Maybe this man could help her, even if it was unintentional. But he also scared her. The angels and the threat of Lucifer didn't seem real enough to her, so she couldn't really be scared of them. This... man, god, whatever, was an ancient, powerful being, seemingly capable of anything. When she looked into his eyes, she couldn't see very much, only a small spark of curiosity and... was that contempt? Maybe. If she followed him, what would happen?

Besides, she didn't think she should trust strange men. 

Emily stood up abruptly, but the man leaned across the table and pinned down her arms.

"Let go of me," she snarled. 

The man leaned closer to her. "Oh, you can go, but if you leave I will kill that dazzling waitress. But if you stay, and come with me, I will let her go."

Emily hesitated for one moment, then stopped struggling. "Why are you doing this?" she hissed.

Loki laughed, his voice soft and silky. "Oh, if you only knew," he said, then glanced at the paper "Just be glad I found you first, Emily. Many others will try to hunt you down, and will offer you much less appealing deals than mine. Some may come bearing gifts, some with malice, and others under the guise of help."

"Well, I refuse your offer," Emily said, breaking free of his grip. "As you seem to be under the latter."

"I'm not finished," hissed Loki.

"Don't care," said Emily, starting to walk pass him.

Loki caught her arm. "Your situation is still the same. If you go, that waitress dies."

Emily stared straight into Loki's cold eyes, then wrenched her arm free and walked out of the diner, the little bell tinkling as the door shut behind her.

The waitress came out from the back and smiled at the god. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

"Yes, darling. I would like one more thing," the stranger said, smiling up at her.

His knife was in his hand when he stood up.

* * *

Dean and Cas walked through the town, arguing.

"I told you, Dean, they won't hurt her."

"Yeah, well, how do you know that, Cas? You just picked up some random people off the street, talked to them for _five minutes_ , then decided they could be trusted with finding Emily?! What if they want to kill her?"

"I told you, they won't do that. You didn't see that woman's eyes when she pleaded for a ride. If anyone can help her, it's them."

"Well, I still think you shouldn't have let them wander away will nilly, looking for the most powerful person we have met in a  _long_ time, and that's saying something. Do you even know their names?"

"No."

"Damn it, Cas."

They stopped at the corner, turning to glare at each other. Cas had come back to meet Dean, only for them to receive a call from Sam saying that Emily had run off. Cas had given the two strangers his car so they could look for Emily, while he and Dean searched some of the towns nearby. They had done more arguing than searching for the most part, though. Now, they were in a small town called Alma in Nebraska. 

"She won't have come this way. Why would she head to Nebraska?" Cas asked.

"I dunno, but a lot of people come this way and it's not too far off from the bunker. We should just check it out."

They walked down the street, continuing to argue.

"Look, if we don't find her today, then we'll met back at the bunker and figure out something else," Dean said.

Cas reluctantly agreed. They rounded the corner and Dean pointed out a tiny diner.

"Let's try there, see if anyone saw anything, maybe get some pie."

Cas nodded and they entered the diner. They immediately knew something was wrong. No one was in there, at the middle of the day, except for a tall man leaning against the counter. He was wearing green and gold leather armor, and had slicked back black hair. By one of the tables there lay the body of a waitress, a nasty bump on her head. She was unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

Cas flicked his arm and his angel blade landed in his hand. Dean drew his gun and pointed it at the man.

"Who are you?" demanded the hunter.

The man walked toward them, smiling. "I am no one of consequence to you. Leave now, and maybe you will live."

Cas hissed, "Wait, I know you."

"Do you?" Loki stopped in front of Cas and raised an eyebrow. "Oh my, you're an angel, aren't you? I haven't seen one of you around in a long time."

"Where is Emily?" Cas growled. "Did you do something to her?"

"Oh, I did nothing to Emily. She was the one who hurt me, she declined my kind offer of help. My poor feelings. I think she's getting to be a bit suspicious, but maybe it's just bad influence," the man sighed. "But you," he leaned forward, his face right in front of Cas's. "How do  _you_ know about Emily?" 

Dean growled, and pulled the trigger of his gun. The bullet sailed through Loki and hit the window.

Loki laughed and disappeared. "I'm sure we will see each other soon." He had been an illusion.

Cas didn't move, but stared at the spot where the god had vanished. Dean took the angel's shoulders and made him face him. "Cas, who was that?"

Cas wouldn't look at him. "We need to find Sam. Now." 

 

 

 


	5. Magic is Might

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ministry deals with the return of the dead. A hearing takes place. Emily meets Sherlock.

Harry stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the man kneeling in the center of the room. They were in the Ministry of Magic, in the same courtroom Harry had been held on trial all those years ago. Ron stood next to him, looking shocked and confused. Hermione was on the other side of him, her eyes dark and focused. They all stared up at the Prime Minister, Kingsley.

The shouting died down as Kingsley stood up, banging a hammer against the desk.

"Order, I call order to the court," he roared. "This man, Uriel, has claimed that the  _dead_ are rising. And among them rises Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort."

Almost everyone in the room flinched at the name, and some muttering broke out.

"Now this is absurd," continued Kingsley over the noise. "The dead cannot be brought back. No magic can do that; it is the _foundation_ of our world." 

"But we have proof," Ron shouted, stepping forward. "Minister, may I call a witness to the trial?"

Kingsley nodded, and behind Ron, hidden by the crowd, stepped out Fred Weasley. The crowd gasped like a well oiled machine.

"My brother, Fred, returned to us earlier today, just before we came to the Ministry," Ron stated. "He died in the Battle of Hogwarts three years ago, but is back, with no meddling of ours. This has to be proof that the dead are back."

Kingsley stared at Fred, his face a mask.

"I don't know how it happened," Fred said in a quiet voice. "I just woke up on a hill about a mile from my house, and behind me was a tombstone that had my name on it. I don't remember how I came back, but I do remember how I died, and everything before it."

Ron nodded at his brother, and Fred returned to the crowd.

"Very well," said Kingsley. "It seems that we have a behemoth problem in front of us. But before the court takes action, does this man have anything else to say?" He pointed at Uriel.

Uriel laughed. "I am not a man, you pathetic meatbag."

The room was dead silent.

"What do you mean you are not a man? You are here, so you must be a wizard, so therefore a man," said Kingsley.

"I am not one of  _you_. You dirty, worm crawling  _humans._ I am an Angel of the Lord," Uriel said definitely.

No one spoke for a long moment. "Excuse me," said Harry, stepping forward. "Did you just say you're an angel? Angels aren't real."

Uriel turned to look at Harry. His eyes glowed blue, the same blue Harry had seen before, and wings appeared on his back, spreading wide. They were silver.

"You have no idea what is real and what is not, Harry Potter," the angel snarled. "And you have no idea what is coming for you."

Kingsley stood up. "Take this thing away and lock him in the most secure room we have until we figure out what to do."

Uriel gave a laugh as they started to drag him out. "I hope Emily Rose finds you before Riddle does, you roaches."

The guards stopped and no one made a sound. "Oh, didn't you know? Emily Rose is back, and all of this is her fault," laughed Uriel, his blue eyes boring in Kingsley's brown ones. 

"What do you mean, this is Rose's fault? Is she among the living again?" Kingsley asked in a low, dangerous voice.

The man laughed again, the sound coming from deep in his throat. "Emily Rose lives again,  _Minister_. She is the one we were hunting before you and your men interrupted us. I was angry at you before, but now I hope you burn in hell for this!"

"Take him away!" shouted Kingsley.

The guards dragged the laughing angel out, the door slamming behind them.

"This meeting... is adjourned until further notice. I will meet with all Aurors in an hour," Kingsley ordered in a wavering voice.

Harry turned to Ron in extreme shock. "Who's this Emily Rose?" he asked, "And why is Kingsley so concerned about her?"

Hermione shook her head. "The name sounds familiar, but he said that this is her fault, so did she bring back the dead? No magic can do that."

"I don't know if, or how, she did it," Harry muttered, "but the Ministry needs to find her and get some answers."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, the 'angel' thing sounds like a load of dung to me. That guy is just crazy."

Harry would have agreed with Ron, but those blue eyes and silver wings were still fresh in his mind. If angels were real, what else was out there?

* * *

Harry and Ron were chatting in their office when Kingsley arrived. Fred had returned to the Burrow so that he could tell the other Weasleys about what had happened, and Hermione was waiting outside for them. Hopefully, Ginny would start to gather as many Order of the Phoenix members as she could. If Voldemort was back they needed to be prepared. 

Kingsley called for their attention. All of the Aurors turned to face him. "Because of recent news, I will need you all out in the field," Kingsley began. "Some of you will be out looking for Rose and Riddle, and some of you will be protecting wizard establishments."

He started to call out names for assignments. Most were out in the field, but a few would be guarding places like St. Mungos and the Ministry. Finally, Kingsley called out Harry's name.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, you will be stationed at Hogwarts until further notice."

"What- sir, shouldn't I be out there looking for Voldemort?" Harry demanded, outraged, as Ron nodded furiously next to him.

"Potter, there is a high chance that the Dark Lord will immediately try to find you and kill you. We cannot lose you, and Hogwarts needs protecting. Also-" Kingsley said, stopping Harry before he could interrupt. "There is also a high chance that Rose could go to Hogwarts, so we need Ministry members there. This matter is not open to negotiation. I expect weekly updates from everyone, and please contact the Ministry immediately if anything important happens. Good day to you all."

And with that, the Minister walked out of the room.

"Well," said Ron, turning to Harry. "At least we'll be with Hermione. It'll be like the good old days."

"Yeah," muttered Harry, lost in thought. "Except in the good old days we almost got killed a lot."

Ron laughed, and Harry was thankful that Kingsley had posted him with his best friend. He had a feeling that he and Ron were going to get a lot of trouble soon.

As they headed out of the room to talk to Hermione, Harry wondered about this mysterious Emily Rose, and what she meant for the Wizarding World. He hoped it was good.

Sadly, Harry Potter did not have the best of luck when it came to hoping.

*********

Hermione was waiting for them in the lounge room outside of the Auror offices, irritated and worried. "I've been thinking over this Emily Rose business," she stated as they sat down across from her in the heavy armchairs. "And I think that we should look into this more."

Harry and Ron looked at one another, confused. "What, like try and track her down? Why in hell would we ever do something like that, especially when Voldemort is on the loose?" Ron asked.

"Because," Hermione sighed, "What if she  _is_ connected to these miracles? What if she can tell us what happened to Fred and Riddle?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The Ministry is already doing that. They have people in the field looking for her right now."

"Harry," Hermione said, exasperated. "Name one time the Ministry has  _ever_ done any sort of job correctly. Ever."

There was a pause. "You have a point," said Ron. "But even if we wanted to go, Harry and I can't. We've been posted to Hogwarts and we can't do anything about that."

Hermione looked down at her hands for a moment. "What if I went alone? I could try and track her down, maybe find out what she's up to. If I can find her, I can call you two in on emergency Ministry business, so it won't be breaking any rules, technically."

"Hermione, why do you want to find her so badly?" Harry asked.

"I  _know_ I've heard her name before, but I can't think where," Hermione looked up and meet his eyes, determined. "I have to find out who she is. We have to get to the bottom of this, and I think Emily is a good place to start."

The three of them looked at each other for a long moment, weighing the odds and outcomes.

"Fine," Harry finally said. "Just don't do anything stupid, please."

Ron snorted. "Like she ever has."

Ron had been right before. This was just like the good old days.

* * *

Emily walked down the craggy stone streets of the city, a light breeze whistling through the flaps of her leather jacket. It was late evening, so the busy streets of London were crowed with late goers, tourists, and parties. The tall buildings that held numerous flats rose up from behind the traffic lines of cabs and buses, which filled the air along with the everyday clamor; the occasional siren faintly whining in the distance. London was truly a sight to behold.

Ok, maybe it had been reckless going to the city where she was being hunted, but Emily had wanted to get away from Loki, and hiding in plain sight seemed like her best option at the moment. She had taken a very late flight the other night from the nearest airport and had been wandering the streets ever since. Besides, as long as she was here, she could try to dig up some research on that bombing she was convicted of.

As she rounded the next bend, she became aware of someone behind her. As she walked down the block, she crossed to the other side of the street and turned the corner quickly. A moment later, the figure did too. Emily was being followed. She picked up her pace, and looked behind her to see someone wearing a grey hoodie with the hood up. She started to jog up the street, twisting through the London crowds as fast as she could. As she hurried down the block, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that the figure was running after her, and gaining. Making a quick decision, Emily ran through the next corner and ducked inside a building with an open door next to a busy cafe called Speedy's. She stuck herself to the wall and held her breath. She waited a few minutes, then poked her head out of the door frame but saw no one of suspicion. 

Emily stepped back into the building, and looked around. A set of stairs led up to what must be a number of flats, and a small corridor led to a little kitchen. No one seemed to be around, so she started up the stairs, deciding to hide for a bit to be safe. As she came to the first corridor, she became aware of the sound of a violin. It was a soft, melancholy piece that floated through the silent air like petals in the wind. She moved closer to the sound and stopped outside of the open door to flat B. No one seemed to be inside it, but where was that sound coming from?

She walked into the flat, her feet making no sound on the large carpet on the floor. Two chairs faced each other parallel to the fireplace, a table to the side of one. A couch slumped against the wall nearest to the door, with a bright yellow smiley face spray painted on the wall above it. A skeleton bull's head was mounted on the wall across from her, a pair of headphones placed on its horns. The room led off to a little kitchen area and a door stood off to the side.

She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around her in awe. This room was filled with memories that she had no part of, but hummed with meaning all the same. The music suddenly stopped, and Emily whirled around. A tall, lanky man with black curls and some slight stubble, dressed in a blue dressing gown and slippers, stood in the kitchen with a violin in his hand. He tilted his head at her and said, "Emily Rose. What an honour."

* * *

Sherlock stood by the window in his bedroom, softly playing his beloved violin, thinking. He was thinking about Moriarty's return and what that meant for London. Would the criminal try to take over the city from underground? Would he try to take over the government? Or was he laying low, planning his revenge against Sherlock?

He started to play slower, the sweet melody switching to melancholy in just a few beats.

But if Moriarty was plotting revenge, then what would he do? Sherlock shuddered to think about what terrible things he might have in store. Forget being bored, this case might kill him. And how did Moriarty come back in the first place? Sherlock was  _so certain_  that he had killed himself, but what if he was mistaken? The very idea seemed preposterous.

But then, what if what Mycroft told them was true? When his brother had told them that Moriarty was alive, he also explained that other dead people were back as well, which was why many nations' governments were getting involved. They didn't know who was responsible for this, if anyone  _could_ be responsible for such an act, and were not close at all to finding out.

He sighed, resting his instrument at his side. Maybe a change in scenery would help him think. He opened his door, stepped out into the kitchen, and stopped short.

A young girl, who looked to be about sixteen, stood in the center of the room. Her curly red hair came down past her shoulders, and a silver star stood on her brow. Her eyes were a sparkling silver, and something about her felt so familiar to Sherlock, but he didn't know why. He had never met this girl before.

Her eyes met his was thrown back in time to a memory he couldn't fully remember. Her gaze pinned him to where he stood, taking in his appearance with narrowed eyes. But her eyes were the wrong colour, weren't they? Why was she so familiar?

And then he recognized her. The papers had done a pretty good job of describing her, and why wouldn't this girl come visit him, the detective who supposedly was to bring her down. "Emily Rose. What an honour," Sherlock told her.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, confused. Apparently, she didn't know who he was.

"You're not here to see me?" Sherlock questioned. 

The girl shook her head. "No, this was an accident. I heard that music and I just followed it here. Why? How do you know my name?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm the detective in charge of bringing you in," he said cheerfully, propping his violin on the table. 

"Oh," the girl bit her lip, her right hand on her hip. "Maybe I'll just... leave?"

"Well, as long as you're here you might as well sit and have some tea."

Emily gave him an appraising look for a moment, then gracefully settled herself in a chair by the fireplace. Sherlock snorted and went into the kitchen to make a batch of tea. He handed her a cup and settled himself into the chair opposite her, blowing on his drink to cool it. There was still something off about her, something he couldn't place. The way she looked at him, the way she walked and moved, even her speech sounded familiar to him. But he couldn't place her, no matter how hard he tried.

"So," the detective started, crossing one long leg over the other. "What brings you here?"

"Wait, I'm confused," she said, ignoring his question. "Why are you not calling the police to arrest me? Aren't I wanted for some crime?"

Sherlock let out a small laugh. "Why would I ever involve the police in this? They are slow, useless, and extremely annoying. Besides, it's obvious you didn't do that bombing."

Emily's look of shock was priceless. "I... I didn't? I mean,  _I_ know I didn't but how did you come to that very nice and convenient solution?"

"You are just a child, it was obvious as soon as I saw you that you do not have the malice to do something like that. Your shock at meeting me shows that you didn't expect me here at all, which means you aren't going after anyone involved in the case- even more innocent. Of course, this could just be a facade, but I doubt it. I know when someone is lying. Also, I examined the limited evidence that was left at the crime scene, and the footprints in the ash are very curious. They go from a man's down to a girl's in two strides, with no trace of more than one person. This alone would be enough to satisfy me, but I must also consider the way the deed was done. Why would you openly show yourself in front of the tower, when you could have been normal and hid? Maybe you're mad, but I threw that out after meeting you; you are very much sane, I would think. So no, I do not think you had anything to do with that tower exploding, but someone went at great lengths to make it seem so."

He said all of this very fast, barely drawing breath until the last word was uttered. Emily sat there, stunned for a moment. She watched as the detective took a sip of his tea, still staring at her.

"That wasn't natural," she said slowly. 

He smirked slightly. "Not many things are at the moment."

"Why does everyone I meet have to be weird?" Emily muttered to herself.

"Any idea who would want to blame you?" he asked, ignoring her muttering.

"Well," Emily started hesitantly before someone interrupted them.

"Sherlock, you hoo!" Came a cheerily voice from the open doorway, and an elderly lady popped into the room, holding a small metal container. "I brought you some leftover soup, thought you might be-" Here she stopped as she caught sight of Emily, then shrieked and dropped the container. Soup flew everywhere as the woman screamed, "YOU! YOU! WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

"MRS. HUDSON," Sherlock roared, jumping up from his chair. "What is the matter with you? Emily is-"

"OH I KNOW WHO SHE IS," Mrs. Hudson shrieked. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KILLED THE AUROR SQUAD ALL THOSE YEARS AGO. MY BEST FRIEND'S SON WAS IN THAT BUILDING WHEN IT EXPLODED, AND ALL THEY COULD FIND OF HIM IN THE END WAS HIS  _RING_."

 _Auror squad?_  Emily thought as she stood up beside Sherlock. Apparently, the detective was on her track of thought. "What's an Auror squad?" he asked, but Mrs. Hudson wasn't finished.

"I"M CALLING THAT MINISTRY RIGHT NOW, THEY WILL SET THINGS RIGHT! YOU. STAY. RIGHT. THERE." She hurried into the kitchen, opened a draw, and took out a mobile.

Just then, the door burst open again and two men, one with black hair and one with red, stormed into the room. They each held a long stick, which they raised and pointed at Emily. 

"Miss Rose," the black haired man said, "My name is Harry Potter and this is Ron Weasley. We are bringing you in on suspicion of bombing prominent building in London and the use of magic in front of Muggles."

 _What the hell is a Muggle?_ Emily's mind reeled.

Before she could respond, Mrs. Hudson scurried back into the room. "How on  _earth_  did you get here so fast? I was just about to call you!"

"With a phone?" the Harry Potter asked.

"I'm a squib, dear, my options are limited. Just take  _her_  away."

Emily noticed that the sticks the men held looked a lot like the one that was in her pocket. She wondered if they were connected.

"Wait," Sherlock intervened, stepping forward. "She didn't do it. I can prove it, just don't take her into custody. And what are sticks supposed to do against us?"

"None of your concern. Just come quietly Rose, and this will all be over soon," the Ron said.

"Harry! Ron! Wait!" cried a new voice as a young woman with bushy brown hair burst into the room. She wore a grey hoodie and jeans that paled against her warm brown skin. "Don't take her to the Ministry!"

Emily gaped at her; that woman had been the figure following her, she was sure of it.

The Harry turned to face her, shocked. "What? Hermione, she's dangerous. You said so herself, if you found her you'd call us and we would take her in. Well, you found her, so let's just get this thing over with."

"No, we can't, not yet Harry. Please, just listen to me. I think I remember where I've heard her name before, but I need to check something first. Also, I just got a message from McGonagall. We have to get to Hogwarts. Now."

"What about her? We can't leave her here," the Ron said, gesturing to Emily. 

"Take her with us, whatever it takes, just go!" And with that, the woman turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud  _crack_! The two men pushed Sherlock aside and grabbed Emily by her arms. She opened her mouth, wherever to breath fire or speak she did not know, because the men turned like the woman did and the world twisted into a black void. They were gone.

Sherlock stared at the spot where Emily had been, then turned to face Mrs. Hudson. "You have some explaining to do," he growled.

Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms and glared at him. "Like I've said before, dear. I'm not your housekeeper."


	6. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More people get kidnapped cause why the hell not.

Sam was getting worried. He had tried calling Dean and Cas about a million times, but neither had answered him. Maybe they were busy, maybe their phones had run out of juice.

He didn't think so.

Sam couldn't wait in the bunker any longer; he had looked for Emily, found no trace, and had been waiting in a very hard wooden chair for the last three hours. What a life. So, he set out to find any trace of Dean, Cas, or the girl with the flames.

He had been driving in one of the extra Men of Letters' cars for about twenty minutes when the road exploded. Sam swerved hard to the right and managed to avoid being hit by the blast. When the smoke finally cleared, Sam got out of the car and looked at the spot where the explosion had happened. A crater fifteen feet wide had been created in the road, and lightning flickered around a tall, bearded figure who stood in the center. The figure stepped forward, and Sam saw it was a very muscular man with short blond hair and a clean cut beard, holding a spear. One of his eyes was covered by a leather patch and the other flickered with purple lightning. He wore a brown leather jerkin and jeans. In short, he looked like a very fashionable pirate with weather issues.

"You," the man spoke in a thunderous voice. "Are you looking for Emily Rose?"

Sam's voice seemed to have stopped working. "I... um... who are you?"

"Are you working with Loki?" the man rumbled, ignoring his question. "Hmm? Are you in cahoots with that shit-faced dolt? HUH?"

A very muscular, very tall man was angry at Sam for some reason, and in all his years as a hunter, Sam had never faced anyone like this before. The man was scary.

"I'm not! I'm not working with this Loki to find Emily! Why do you even _care_?!"

The man narrowed his eyes at him. "Hmph. I don't believe you, mortal. You're coming with me." He strode across the space between them, grabbed Sam's arm, and pointed his spear to the sky.

And before Sam could do anything, he felt a great tug in his gut, and all he saw was colour.

* * *

They landed in front of gigantic metal gates and Emily breathed in the cool evening air. The two men still had a tight grip on her arms. After catching her breath, Emily looked up and gasped. Set against the night sky was an enormous castle, its windows spilling out a glowing yellow light. It was beautiful and strangely familiar. Emily had been here before, she was sure of it, but of course she couldn't remember. Harry pointed his wand at her wrists and chains appeared around them, restricting her hand movement. 

"Don't try anything," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "Just follow us and you'll be fine."

"What is this place?" she asked, as Ron opened the gates and started to walk up the path. 

Ron frowned. "It's Hogwarts. Didn't you go to school here?"

Emily shook her head. This was a school? It seemed pretty extravagant. She didn't believe that she had ever been accepted to a fancy school like this. The dirt path that led up to it was occasionally lit with small, floating balls of light so they could find their way. Before long, the odd trio reached the doors to the castle. The men pushed them open, and in they went.

Emily's eyes were assaulted with beautiful statues, carvings, and the overall warmth of the castle. She could see some staircases from the end of the hall, and they were  _moving._ She could hear people talking in what must be a huge hall hidden by a pair of double oak doors next to them, and the scent of food filled the air.

"Ron, take her the dungeons and lock her up," said Harry. "We'll figure out what to do with her after we talk to Hermione." The bushy haired woman, who must be Hermione, hadn't appeared at the castle with them, but maybe she had gone in another way. There was sure to be many doors in the behemoth building.  

Ron nodded and tugged Emily toward the staircases. The other man walked to the room where the smell of food was coming from. Something about that room seemed important; she needed to go there. She tried to see what was in there when he opened the door, but Ron was walking at a fast pace. They traveled down the staircases until they reached the very bottom, then entered a dark hallway. Ron lead her to the end, which opened into a small chamber with holding cells.

Emily suddenly twisted her arm out of Ron's grip and smashed her head into his. He fell to the floor, dazed. She quickly turned and ran out of the hallway, back onto the bottom floor, shutting the door behind her. She looked down at the chains, opened her mouth, and breathed fire onto them. The chains melted off of her hands, but the heat and fire didn't hurt her. It just tickled a bit.

Emily ran back up the stairs, back into the entrance hall. She could hear shouting from the room that Harry had entered. Emily threw open the doors and stepped inside. The room immediately hushed, and everyone turned to look at her.

The first thing Emily noticed were all of the people sitting at the tables, their faces full of surprise and worry. 

The second was Harry Potter, who was standing by a tall man with shaggy black hair. He was staring not at her, but at the man, his eyes full of hope and a little bit of fear.

The third was the raven-haired woman standing in the middle of the hall who turned to face her. Her face was filled with shock and... was that hope?

The woman walked until she was right in front of Emily, her eyes not leaving her face. She placed one hand on the side of Emily's face. 

"Emily," she breathed. There was something so familiar about her, so close, that Emily could feel her heart breaking in two as she stared at the woman.

"Who...?" Emily asked, her voice so small that it might as well have been a whisper.

"It's me," Arya said, a single tear falling down her face, her voice breaking. "It's your sister."

* * *

Arya and Eragon had been driving for hours when they finally found the wizard. They hadn't been able to find Emily and were finally forced to stop in a small town when they ran out of what the blue-eyed man had called "gas". They had entered a tiny shop and had found him reading a newspaper in the corner.

"Excuse me," Eragon asked. "Could you tell us the way to the nearest barn?"

The man looked up, his silver beard glowing in the light. "What ever for?" he asked. His crescent moon spectacles glittered strangely in the light as he peered over them.

Eragon and Arya looked at each other. "Umm... for transportation," said Eragon. 

"My dear fellow, where have you been? No one uses animals for getting around anymore! They use brooms, and the Muggles use those fancy cars."

"What's a Muggle? Besides, our 'car' ran out of 'gas'," Arya told him.

The man smiled kindly at her. "A Muggle is a non-magical person, so not a wizard or witch; the owner of this shop is one. As for your car, I can not help you there," He tilted his head at them. "Are you two Muggles?"

"We are Dragon Riders" Eragon said curtly. He didn't seem to like being called non-magical.

"Eragon," hissed Arya, angry. He should know better than to tell people that. They were in a different world, a world that didn't seem to  _have_ dragons.

"Ah, so my instincts were right. You are not from this world, are you? I guess what with recent events, this really isn't that surprising," said the old man, his eyes twinkling sadly. "So may I ask, what is your destination?"

Arya and Eragon exchanged glances again. "We are looking for a girl named Emily Rose. Do you know if she is alive? And if so, where she is?"

The man's smile died. "Do you mean this girl harm?" he asked plainly. 

"No, but we need to know if she's alive. I'm her sister, so if you know where she is then please tell us," Arya pleaded. She didn't know why she was telling this man about her sister, but he seemed so strange, so out of place like them, that she had to at least try. She had to find Emily, even if that meant visiting every town and city in the damn world.

The man got up, giving his newspaper to Eragon. "I don't know where she is, but I can bring you to some people who might be able to help you. And in the meantime, this might give you some information."

The paper had a picture of a smoking building on it, with the headline "The Next Shell Centre?" on it. Arya say Emily's name in the article below, and her heart fell.

The man walked toward the door then turned around. "Oh, and my name is Albus Dumbledore. Welcome to Great Britain. You may find our world lacking, but give it a chance and I promise you will grow to love it. I do."

Then the man left, giving the two Dragon Riders no choice but to follow. The castle he had taken them to was unlike any Arya had ever seen, and had never hoped to either.

* * *

Arya looked into her sister's eyes, trying not to cry. Emily took a step back and Arya's hand fell away from her face.

"Sister?" she echoed. "Who... who are you?" Emily clutched her head. "Why can't I remember you?" she said angrily.

"Emily... what happened?" Arya asked. Her sister still looked the same: silver eyes, fiery hair, and a silver star set on her brow. There were no signs of death, no wounds of any kind. She was  _alive_ again. "Are you ok? How did you... what did you do? How did these people come back? Oh Emily, what did you do?" Her voice broke on the last part.

Emily shook her head and continued to back away. "No, something's wrong, something's wrong something's wrong something's wrong WHO ARE YOU?" she roared, still clutching her head. Her eyes were full of panic, her teeth gritted and lips thin.

Arya felt Eragon come up behind her. "This is your sister?" he asked softly. He looked at her in surprise, a little bit of hurt on his kind face. She felt bad that she hadn't told him about her having a sister. It was usually too painful a topic to bring up.

Arya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. _Why can't she remember me?_

"Something's wrong with her," Arya whispered. "She should be able to remember me."

Harry Potter, the man who had stormed in a bit before Emily, marched up to her other side. "How did you get free?" he yelled at Emily, pointing his wand at her. "Where's Ron?"

With excellent timing Ron burst through the doors, rubbing the side of his head.

"Oi!" he shouted at Emily. "Get back here!"

Emily's hands were still clutching her head, but now her eyes were closed. Meeting Arya seemed to have caused some sort of painful reaction in her head.

"No, no," she muttered. Her silver eyes flew opened and met Arya's gaze. And Arya didn't see her sister there. There was a stranger in her sister's skin.

Harry advanced and Eragon tried to stop him. "No, she doesn't know what's happening, don't hurt her!" 

Harry punched him in the face, not thinking straight out of fear and confusion. There were strange people in his home, Ron had been hurt, and the man that had killed his parents had returned  _again_. He was not in a clear state of mind.

Eragon staggered backward, cursing at him. At the same time, Ron ran forward but tripped on his robes. Arya leaped toward him and put a knife to his throat. She wouldn't let anyone hurt Emily.

Noises erupted all around the hall, and people got up angrily, yelling threats into the air. People ran forward to pull Eragon off of Harry, but ended up getting hit and joined in the fight. Arya punched anyone who neared her. The noise grew to an almost unbearable level in the hall.

"STOP," roared a voice from the center of the crowd, and a bolt of flames shot into the air, disappearing before they hit the ceiling. "EVERYONE. SHUT. _UP_!"

It was Emily. People backed away from her, until the only ones left near her were Harry, Eragon, Arya, and Ron. Eragon and Harry were no longer fighting but were looking at Emily with apprehension. Arya backed off of Ron, staring at her sister.

Emily's silver eyes were shining with rage and flames flickered along her arms and torso, not burning her clothes or skin. She glared around the room, everyone quailing under her fierce gaze.

"I don't know what's going on," she growled. "You people randomly arrested me for a crime that I did _not_ commit. Someone wants me dead more badly than I can imagine and apparently the dead are _back_. I don't know anything because I  _can't remember a single thing._ And now everyone is fighting for no reason when there are  _much_ bigger problems at hand. So. Shut. _Up_."

No one made a sound. From the table at which he sat, Dumbledore raised one bushy eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. Emily's glare fell upon Harry. "Now tell me, how do you know me, and what are you?"

Harry took a shaky breath adjusting his glasses. "My name is Harry Potter. I work for the Ministry of Magic and I'm a wizard. I know you because my job is to bring you in for the murder of innocent people with the use of magic."

"So wizards are interested in this bombing too?" demanded Emily. 

"Of course," Harry said, puzzled. "I mean, you're a witch and _you_ did this, so we have to take charge. It's the Ministry's job to quiet magical threats."

"First of all, I'm a what? And second of all I didn't bomb anything."

"A witch, or wizard, is someone who can perform magic. And we have eye witnesses for that bombing." Harry said.

Emily shook her head. "You better find those eye witnesses, because they lied. Someone really wants me dead, so I'm thinking that he must be trying to get _you_ to kill me." 

Harry went over the nearest table and sat down, rubbing his forehead. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you're telling the truth. But I'm supposed to bring you in."

Arya stepped forward. "You can't. We have to bring Emily home, right now. We need to fix this 'dead rising' problem."

As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Emily asked, "Who... who else here was dead?" 

There was a pause, then about a quarter of the room stepped forward. She saw a red-haired man standing next to an identical version of himself, a woman with bright pink hair, a man with tired eyes and grey lined hair, a man with a glass eye, the man with the long, shaggy black hair, a man with a long silver beard, and many, many others. They all looked at her with a fixed weariness. 

She looked around at them all. She had done this; had saved so many people. But at what cost? What had she done, and why? And more importantly, how? How did she raise the dead?

_Who am I?_

She turned toward Arya. "You better-" and promptly passed out.

 


	7. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily meets Lucifer in a dream. Spooky.

Dean and Cas were silent for most of the drive back to the bunker. Dean had originally tried to draw some information out of Cas, like who the hell that man was and how he was connected to Emily, but Cas hadn't said a word. Now, Dean was worried about how Cas had reacted with the man, as though he  _knew_ him. That couldn't be good. They finally arrived back at the bunker where they had planned to meet Sam.

"Sam," Dean called as they opened the door. "We're back with some bad news." There was no answer. "Sam?"

Dean walked through the halls of the bunker, calling out his brother's name, but there was no reply. He finally came back to Cas and told him, "He isn't here. He should have been back by now."

Cas blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance. "Maybe we should call his cell. He could have gone looking for us."

Dean did as he suggested, but no answer. He tried the number four more times and no one picked up. "Damn it," he muttered. "We better track the phone."

They did, and after a few seconds, a tiny red dot appeared on the mobile map. "What the hell!?" Dean murmured, staring at the dot. Sam's phone was in New York. 

"Come on," Cas said, dragging Dean to the door. "We have to find him. I don't like what this means." 

* * *

Emily woke up in a small cot, staring up at a stone ceiling. Her head pounded, wherever from the pain of seeing Arya or from hitting it on the floor when fainting, she didn't know. Arya...

She sat up and looked around at her surroundings. She was in a small cell, like the one Ron had been leading her too, with only a cot and a wooden chair. In that chair was Arya. As Emily looked at her, her head started to pound again so she closed her eyes, turning her chin to the ceiling. 

 _What the hell just happened?_  

"Emily."

She opened her eyes at the word, not looking at the one who said it. "What?"

There was a pause. "How are you?"

She gave a humorless laugh. "I fainted and woke up in a cell. I'm doing just great."

"Why did you faint?"

"The pounding in my head just got to be too much, I guess. It's not as bad now but it's still there."

Another pause, then, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I'm sorry for overwhelming you like that, Emily. I... I didn't know you lost your memory. I was just so relived to see you alive, so I'm sorry if I shocked you."

"Alive? What, was I in some sort of danger when you last saw me?"

Arya gave her a strange look. "Emily, the last time I saw you was at your funeral."

Emily turned to face her, eyes wide, body tense. "I-I died?"

"Yes. That's why I was so relieved to see you; I thought you were dead. But with every other dead person returning, I guess you did too."

 _I died,_ she thought.  _I_ died. _How_?

"I'm sorry, Emily," Arya whispered from where she sat

And suddenly anger was coursing through her body, filling her head with vicious thoughts.

"Oh, you're sorry?" Emily's eyes bore into Arya's, ignoring the increase of the pounding in her head. "You're sorry, is that it? Well listen up, _Arya_ , you don't really get to be sorry right now. I woke in a field only one day ago, got attacked by angels, or so I'm told, was carried off to a secret bunker, convicted of killing hundreds of people, got a death threat basically, and was kidnapped by _wizards_. I don't know who anyone is, or who  _I am,_  but everyone seems to know me and hates me for one reason or another. I don't know what is happening right now, and won't be able to unless everyone stops feeling  _sorry_ for me, and just comes clear. And now, apparently, I _died_ and came back to life."

Her voice cracked on the last line, stumbling over the words "I died".

Arya's face was masked in shadows. Before she could reply, footsteps reached their ears and Harry and Hermione walked into the room. Arya stood up and crossed her arms. "What are you doing back here?"

"It's ok, we just want to ask her some questions and maybe answer some of her's," Hermione told her kindly. Arya gritted her teeth but sat down. Emily's words seemed to have had a very strong affect on her. She didn't know if it was a good one or not.

Harry stared down at Emily so she stared back at him, quickly clearing her face of any emotion. His bright green eyes reminded her of the oak leaves resting in the summer sun in that golden field. "Ok, Emily, Hermione and Dumbledore have convinced me not to hand you over to the Ministry immediately, but that doesn't mean I can trust you. You said before you have no memory. Is that true?"

Emily nodded. "A day ago, I woke up in a field with no memory of any kind; I only knew my name."

"Why were you in London?"

She paused before answering, choosing her words carefully. "I met two men who told me I might be in danger, so I decided to try to get far away from where I appeared. I took a plane to London and wandered around until I met the man you found me talking to." She didn't want them to know about Loki until she knew what to do.

"Who is he? The woman who was with him, Mrs. Hudson, is a known squib in that area, but who's the man you were talking to?"

"He's the detective who's in charge of the bombing case I'm blamed of."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You were having a cup of tea with the man who is supposed to bring you in on murder!?"

Emily shrugged. "He said he didn't think I had anything to do with the bombing. Also, he was, well..." She wanted to say weird, but that seemed an understatement for Sherlock Holmes.

Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "The worst thing about this situation is that I believe you. I don't know why but I don't think you're lying, which complicates things a lot." He looked up at Hermione and sighed. "I think you're right, Hermione, we have to dig into this case more before we tell the Ministry we found her. I trust Kingsley, but with Voldemort on the loose we need to be extra careful. This dead rising thing..."

He looked back at Emily, his jaw set. "You should get some sleep for now. We can answer some of your questions, but for now you should rest." And with that, he and Hermione left. Arya gave her one last look of hesitation, then followed the wizards.

Emily sighed and lay back down on the cot. She was so tired of being questioned constantly. So, so tired...

_The last time I saw you was at your funeral._

She shut her eyes and fell into the realm of sleep.

_Don't you trust me, Emily?_

*********

"Emily, wake up, wake up!" 

Emily opened her eyes and saw Arya standing over her, shaking her shoulder. She could hear music playing far above her. 

"Come on Emily, you're going to miss it!" Arya said again.

_Miss what?_

Emily got up. "What's going on?" she murmured. Her head wasn't pounding anymore.  

Arya grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the dungeon and up the stairs. They burst into the great hall, where the strange music was coming from. People were dancing and laughing; there was a party in full swing. The strange thing was, no one noticed them. No one even looked at them. 

Emily turned to Arya, but instead of her sister there was a strange man standing there, swaying slightly to the music. He had dirty blond hair and a quirky smile and was wearing jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. When he turned to face her, she saw he had red eyes.

"Emily Rose. Pleasure," he purred. His voice was like a stone against sandpaper.

"Who are you?" Emily demanded. She was caught off guard by his gaze. Those red eyes looked like fresh blood.

"I'm hurt. Those Winchester brothers didn't tell you about me?" he pouted.

Emily looked away from him, her gaze falling on Ron and Hermione dancing. They looked happy, free of worries and duty. She felt strangely calm. Maybe she had been through so much in the past day that her brain just couldn't be bothered with any more fear. "You're Lucifer," she said. "The one Sam and Dean are hunting. The Devil." Her gaze switched to Arya, who was talking to Eragon in the corner.

He laughed. "Guilty-y-y." He followed her gaze to Arya and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. 

"So are you here to offer me a deal?" Emily asked.

"No, no. I'm just here to meet you. I've heard a lot about you, Rose," Lucifer said, his voice ticking.

Emily turned to look at him again. "I don't believe that."

The Devil grinned as he met her gaze. "Believe whatever you want, Emily. I really did just come to meet you. You shouldn't believe what Sam and Dean tell you, I'm actually a really nice guy!"

Emily gave him a  _Bitch, really?_ look.

His grin twitched. "What? I'm telling the truth. Or, at least, _my_ truth. You see, dear Rose, everyone has their own truths. They may be different from the truths of others, but to them it's all the same. I believe I'm a nice guy, so I am telling the truth. Just because you don't like it doesn't make it any less true to _me_."

He stepped back, and a crown appeared in his hands. It was silver and in the shape of roses, with tiny rubies placed as petals. He held it out to her. 

"What is that?" she asked, not able to tear her gaze away from the crown.

The Devil slowly turned the crown, letting the light catch on the rubies. "Your memories. I can give them to you, if you want. That's what you really want, isn't it?"

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She just hungrily stared at the crown, not able to hide how much she wanted it. 

_My memories._

Lucifer sighed and the crown disappeared. "I'll give you time to think about it. If you want to contact me, just drop by Hell. Do what you want, Rose, but know that I'm not the only one who wants to meet you. You would do well to remember that."

He gave her a wink. "See you soon."

*********

Emily woke up, sweating and breathing hard. She was alone in her cot, still in the cell she had fallen asleep in. She sat up and put a hand to her head. Sam and Dean had been right, Lucifer was looking for her. Did he know where she was? 

_He has my memories._

So, first Loki, now the Devil. Who else would try to seek her out? She _really_ didn't want to find out.

_I really did just come here to meet you. Just because you don't like it doesn't make it any less true to me._

She got up and put on her jacket, still distracted by her thoughts. The leather was comforting against her cold skin. She tore off a bit of cloth from the cot and tied her long, curly hair into a pony tail. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she exited the cell and started up the stairs. Her mind raced as she climbed the cold stone steps.

So she had died. The very idea made her skin crawl. The idea of death, of not existing, scared her more than Loki and Lucifer put together. But she was only, what? Sixteen, seventeen? She didn't even know her own age. She was too young to have died, at the very least. 

When she reached the top of the landing, she found Hermione waiting for her. Her bushy brown hair was the same shade as her sparkling mahogany eyes. The light shone on her dark ebony skin, causing her to almost glow. She wore a grey pant suit with sneakers, with a small beaded-bag tied to her hip. She gave Emily a warm smile. "I thought you'd never wake up. Come on, I'll give you a small tour of the castle since you don't remember it." 

They started down the corridor leading away from the Great Hall and up a moving staircase. 

"Yeah," said Hermione, catching Emily's look of astonishment. "Some of the staircases here move. You'll get used to it after a bit."

 _Do you really?_ Emily's mind drawled.

They moved up another flight and exited into a small corridor that looked out into a courtyard.

"Yesterday Harry told me this place was a school. Why aren't there any students?" Emily asked. The sun was high in the sky, so it must be close to noon. She really had slept awhile.

"Hogwarts has been closed for the time being. What with all the chaos, no one wants to send their children away right now," Hermione answered, leading her down another flight of stairs.

"Hogwarts?"

"The name of this school. Hogwarts is a place where young witches and wizards can come to learn magic in safety. It's like a second home to many, really. There's a variety of subjects that are taught here, ranging from informative to a bit dangerous. I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"And I went to school here?"

Hermione nodded. "Professor Dumbledore, who used to be the headmaster here until he died, says you did. And if you're a witch, than you probably ended up here." She turned to face Emily. "Do you have a stick of wood, by any chance? It might have some carving on it, or other detail."

Emily put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the dark stick she had woken up with. "Yeah, I found this in my pocket when I woke up the other day."

Hermione took it and examined it carefully. "Yeah, you're a witch alright. This is a wand, which ever witch and wizard has. It's used as an instrument for our magic. Most wizards can't perform magic intentionally without a wand." She gave it back to Emily and they continued walking.

"So you really want to hand me to the Ministry?"

The older witch sighed. "I don't think we should, and Professor Dumbledore agrees with me. I don't think you bombed those buildings, and I don't think Harry or Ron does either. They're just scared. I mean, you can breathe  _fire._ I've never heard of anyone who could do that before."

Emily was silent for awhile.

Hermione took her around the school, showing her all the different classrooms and dormitories and sections of Hogwarts. Maybe some would find it boring, but Emily was fascinated with every detail. She had been here, once. She had walked these halls and took these classes, had even slept in one of the four dormitories. But she couldn't remember any of it.

"So there are four houses here," Hermione explained as they started back to the great hall. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"I wonder which one I was in," Emily said.

Hermione gave her an appraising look. "I don't know. You could have been in any of them, really. It can be hard to tell sometimes."

They reached the Great Hall again, and Hermione said, "Come on, let's get some lunch. You must be hungry." 


	8. Whisky and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily meets some of the Order and receives interesting news from Sherlock Holmes. Dean gets kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I've actually updated it's been awhile. I'm writing again yay! Sorry for the wait.

They entered the feasting hall, Emily a bit more hesitant than Hermione. Her dream was still fresh in her mind, and the stares everyone gave her when she walked in didn’t help with her nerves. She followed Hermione to the far right table, where many people from the night before were sitting, eating lunch. Professor Dumbledore was talking to the man with shaggy black hair and clean cut beard. A lot of red-headed people milled about, and Emily guessed that they were all related.

Hermione sat down next to Ron and Harry and poured herself some coffee. Everyone looked on edge and nervous, but they all clearly felt safe in this castle and around each other. They were like one big family.

Emily sat down in an empty space between Hermione and two boys with the red hair who looked _exactly_ alike, except one was missing an ear. Across the table from her was Dumbledore.

Everyone went silent as soon as she sat down, and turned to look in her direction. Emily poured herself some water and slowly drank it, annoyed by the attention. Arya, who was sitting on the other side of Dumbledore, frowned at her, as though sensing something was wrong. She ignored the elf.

“I think you should know who everyone is,” Hermione said into the silence. “That’s Sirius.” She pointed at the man Dumbledore was talking to. “Those are the Weasley twins, Fred and George.” She pointed at the boys on the other side of Emily, and they both winked at her.

Hermione went on and on. Tonks was the woman with pink hair and changing facial features. Remus Lupin was the man with the gray hair and tired eyes. The man with the peg leg, one eye, and lots of scars was Mad-Eye Moody. The Weasley family were the red-heads. There was also Professor McGonagall, a stern lady with grey hair pulled into a tight bun.

“Everyone here, besides you and your, um, friends, are part of the Order of the Phoenix. We fight Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, whatever,” Hermione told her, despite the frowns and muttering that came from the others. Clearly they disapproved of Emily getting to know their names and their secret organization.

There was a long silence when Hermione finished talking.

“Um,” Emily cleared her throat. “So what’s happened?”

She could _hear_ Harry frown at her words. “Nothing, and that’s the problem. There has been no news besides more reports of dead people being alive again. Riddle has been completely silent so far, and no one knows what’s happening.”

“Yay?” Emily said, taking another gulp of water.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and Emily thought she saw a smile hiding behind his silver beard. Sirius, however, was not as amused. “Yay? That’s all you have to say? _You_ caused all of this!”

Emily stared at him. “I did _not._ I have no idea what is happening right now! I can’t remember a thing, and apparently I can’t even sleep without-” She cut herself off, not wanting to go into the details of her dream just yet.

There was a pause. “Miss Rose, did you have a dream of something? Or someone?” asked Professor Dumbledore.

“Maybe?” she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“A maybe is better than nothing,” he said, nodding his head at her. “What did you dream about?”

Emily looked down at her goblet, swishing the remaining liquid around in it. “I was here, in the Great Hall, and everyone was talking. A man appeared next to me. He told me he was here to meet me, but I didn’t believe him. He- he told me that he wasn’t the only one who would come looking for me, and that I should be careful. Then he offered me this, well, _crown_ , and disappeared.”

There was more silence as Dumbledore stroked his beard. “I see. Do you know who this man was?”

“I- well, yes, but this is going to sound preposterous,” Emily admitted, looking up at him. “He’s the Devil.”

Dumbledore froze. He seemed to be the only one to do so. Ron snorted and said, “Really? Like from the Bible? That is crazy.”

“You can do magic and I came back from the dead, but the goddamn Devil is too crazy of a concept for you?” Emily snapped.

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence. “Miss Rose, you said you have no memory, so how do you know that this really was the Devil?”

“Albus, you don’t actually believe her?” Sirius demanded, outraged.

“I do, because I myself have met the Devil a long time ago. But Miss Rose, how did you know it was him?”

Emily didn’t want to say. She didn’t think these people would harm the Winchesters, she was just distrustful by nature. But if she didn’t offer evidence, they would think she was lying. “Those two men I met when I woke up, they told me something like this might happen. They’ve been looking for him for awhile.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, and stood up, starting to walk down the hall. “I must go now. Miss Rose, I will see you later. But one more thing.”

He turned to look at her again. “The two men you met, were they the Winchester brothers?”

Emily’s open mouth must have answered his question. “Ah, I see now,” he said.

And with that, he walked out of the hall. A few other Order members left as well, including Sirius and Lupin.

“Whoa, hold on,” Arya said. “Now you’re being hunted? We must leave for home _now_.”

 _Hell no,_ Emily thought.  _I'm not going anywhere with_ you.

Ron shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. We have to get to the bottom of that bombing and what is actually happening right now. She can’t leave until we do.”

“That is not your decision. Emily is my sister and she has to come home with me. You think this world is the only one with problems?”

_And I really don't care._

“We can’t let her go without solving this! What if she _is_ responsible?” Harry said.

Everyone else joined in the argument, causing a clatter of noise.

“Ok, STOP!” yelled Hermione, and the table fell silent. “Look, this might help. I told you before that I had heard Emily’s name before, but I couldn’t be sure until I checked the library.”

“Typical,” murmured Ron.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and drew a newspaper clipping from her pocket. “You know that time we tried to find out the Half-Blood Prince’s name and I looked through all of those old _Prophets_? Well, I remember reading something about a bombing, and it mentioned you, Emily.”

She gave her the article, and Emily read through it. Most of the article talked about how this was all some big plot of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to spread fear throughout the nation. There was a description of “ _...A girl with red hair, silver eyes, and a star on her forehead was found standing in the middle of the crime scene with a smile on her face... surrounded by dead bodies of wizards and muggles alike…_ ”

“Just like this time,” Emily muttered, disturbed by the similarity of the events. She pulled out the newspaper with the article of the more recent bombing and handed it to Hermione. She looked up at Arya. “Look, whoever is staging these bombings is trying to pin the blame on me. I have to find out who is doing this before I do anywhere else.”

She turned her gaze to Harry. “I don’t care about stopping this, it isn’t my problem. But I do want to know who is doing this and _why._ Maybe it will help get my memory back.”

Hermione scanned the second article. “This might be a place to start. This passage says that the current bombing is being blamed on both you and someone named James Moriarty. And the detective in charge of this case is Sherlock Holmes.”

She looked up at Emily. “What was the name of the detective you met with in London?”

* * *

The tension in the car was palpable. Even the most clueless person could sense that something was deeply amiss. Cas and Dean had been driving for the whole night to get to New York, but they were still far away.

The sky outside was slowly turning a pinkish hue when they pulled into the gas station. Next to it was a small bar that seemed to still be open. They got out of the Impala, stretching and groaning as they popped their stiff joints.

“Fill her up, will you? I’m gonna go get a drink,” Dean mumbled to Cas, tossing him the keys to the car. Castiel rolled his eyes but did as Dean asked.

Dean walked briskly into the little bar, determined to keep himself awake by drinking some booze. Maybe not the most efficient way to keep from sleeping, but it was certainly the most refreshing. The bar itself wasn’t that impressive, filled only with a few very late goers and a young man who was cleaning glasses behind the bar.

The barman smiled at Dean as he sat down at the bar and ordered some whisky.

“What brings you here? You’re not a regular,” the barman noted as he handed Dean his drink.

“Just on a road trip, figured I could use a break,” Dean said, draining half the glass with one gulp. The barman refilled the glass, and Dean drained it again.

“You with anyone?”

Dean whipped at his mouth. His eyes felt strangely droopy. “Just a friend.”

He started to feel woozy, as though he were about to throw up. Something was definitely wrong. Dean tried to stand, but his knees were too weak. He tried to support himself with the bar table, but was quickly losing consciousness. He fell to the ground, unable to move.

The last thing he saw was the barman kneeling over him, smiling. “Don’t worry Dean Winchester, the boss doesn’t want you dead just yet.”

His eyes turned into black orbs, and Dean had time to think, _Demon_ , before losing consciousness.

* * *

 Cas finished filling up the car and carefully replaced the nozzle where it belonged. He was just about to follow Dean to the bar when his phone started to ring.

“Hello?” Cas answered.

“Cas, thank god. Dean wasn’t answering. Is he with you?”

“Sam? Where are you, are you alright? We’ve been looking for you everywhere. What happened?”

“I’m fine. You guys were taking so long that I went out to find you, but I, um, ran into someone.”

There were some muffled voices from Sam’s end. “Anyways, where are you guys?”

“We’re about a days drive from New York, trying to find you,” Cas said. “You are in New York, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I am. Look, how about we meet up in Upstate New York near Lake Ontario, East Bay. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Alright. But Sam?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Just be careful.”

“Sure.”

Cas put down the phone, thinking. If Sam had run into someone and was in Upstate New York… well, at least he was safe.

He walked toward the bar knowing that Dean would want to hear this immediately. When he opened the door no one was there. The only sign of life was a knocked over shot cup on the floor. Cas knelt down and picked it up, turning the glass in his hand. It was still warm.

He stood up and sniffed the air. The smell of sulfur assaulted his nose.

“Demons,” Cas growled, turning to head out the door. Sam would have to wait.

_I’m coming Dean, just wait for me._

* * *

“Are you _sure_ you knew where you’re going?” asked Harry in a tired voice.

They had been wandering around London for an hour now, trying to find out how to get to Baker street. The wizards had agreed to let Arya and Emily go to London to search for Sherlock Holmes so they could find out the truth of the bombing (just as long as Harry accompanied them).

“Look, it shouldn't take much longer. It has to be around here _somewhere_ ,” Emily replied, annoyed.

They turned off the busy street onto a row of apartment buildings and Emily spotted a familiar looking cafe banner.

She pointed it out. “There! Next to the cafe.”

They made their way down the busy street, trying not to get lost in the sea of people. Arya was completely overwhelmed, looking at the nosy machines and the towering buildings with wide eyes. Coming from a world where there was no electricity or any modern technology and being shoved into London without any warning was a huge shock. She was so lost that she tripped over someone’s leg and fell toward the ground.

Emily caught her, pushing the taller woman up straight before she could slam into the pavement.

“Thank you,” Arya told her, but Emily just rolled her eyes and turned to follow Harry.

 _Why is she so mad at me?_ the elf thought, frowning.

They reached the cafe and stopped in front of a door with the number _221b_ on it. The metal knocker on the door was oddly crooked, but none of them tried to fix it.

“This is it?” Harry asked skeptically.

Emily nodded and pushed open the door. The three of them walked up the little flight of stairs to the place of their destination.

The three of them exchanged a hurried glance, then Emily reached up and knocked once on the door.

“Come in,” said a voice. They pushed open the door and entered the flat.

It looked exactly the same to Emily, except instead of the tall figure of Sherlock Holmes sitting in a chair by the fireplace, there was instead a short, blonde, broad-shouldered man reading a newspaper.

He looked up at them as they came in and said, “Oh, hello. Are you all clients?”

“Clients?” Harry echoed.

The blonde man nodded. “Yeah. Sorry, but you might have to come back later. Sherlock isn’t here right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Actually, we came here to talk to him,” Emily said. “Do you know where he is?”

“No, not really. He does this quite often though, wouldn’t be too worried about it,” the man said. “So you’re not here for a case?”

“In a way, yeah, I guess we are. I met Sherlock just the other day, he said he wanted to help me so I came by here to follow up on that offer.”

The man studied her more closely. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Emily.”

“John Watson, Sherlock's flat mate,” he said, shaking her hand. He glanced at Harry and Arya. “Who are you two?”

“I’m Harry Potter.”

“Arya.”

“Grand,” John said, picking up his phone. “I can try to call him, if you like. Might actually pick up.”

Emily shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”

“You can take a seat on the couch if you want.”

Harry nodded politely and did so, and after a moment Arya joined him. Emily, however, leaned against the wall next to the window and stared out of it into the busy London streets. John dialed a number on his phone and held it close to his ear, one arm crossed across his chest.

Emily observed him. He was short but obviously had some muscle, more so than an average gym goer does. He had a quiet patience around him that is usually found in hospitals and secretaries; he had even spoke to them like patients.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked him, tilting her head a bit to the side.

He blinked at her, startled. “Yeah. I was an army doctor until a few years ago, when I moved in with Sherlock. How did you-”

He was cut off by the phone, Sherlock must have answered it.

“Hey, Sherlock. No, it’s fine here. A girl named Emily just came ‘round, said she was looking for you. Said you wanted to help her? Oh, ok. Great. Okay, bye,” he finished, then hung up. “He said to hold on, he should be here in five minutes. Want some tea?”

Harry and Arya nodded, so John went to the kitchen to make some. Emily continued to stare out the window, her thoughts turning to what Loki had said. _Many others will try to hunt you down, and will offer you much less appealing deals than mine._

She was starting to see what he meant by that, and only hoped no one else was after her. It was all very startling, to wake up with no memories and told that dangerous people were after you for reasons you did not know. Her past was becoming an ever increasing mystery, one she hoped Sherlock would be able to help her solve.

At that very moment, the door opened and in sauntered Sherlock himself, taking off his purple scarf and long, black coat. He saw Emily at the window and looked at her with a strange, almost hesitant look that was deeply unsettling, as though he were trying to pick her in a lineup.

“So you’re back, with some of the same company,” he said pulling up a chair in the middle of the room and placing his long fingers under his chin, leaning forward slightly. “And magic, as Mrs. Hudson has told me, is real. Astounding, but disappointing.”

“What did you just say?” John called from the kitchen, coming back into the room with a tray of tea. He handed one to Harry and Arya, but Emily declined hers. So did Sherlock, but John looked used to that already. He pulled up another chair besides Sherlock’s and sipped his own cup carefully.

“So, what exactly do you want my help with?” Sherlock asked, ignoring John's question.

Harry turned his cup slightly. “We want to know if you know anything about the bombing that happened. Maybe who did it, or why?”

“As I’ve already told Emily yesterday, I do not believe she blew up that building. I have yet to name any real suspects, as this case seems to be of an abnormal sort.”

“What do you mean by that?” Arya asked.

John scoffed. “He means that it’s harder for him to solve than normal cases, so it’s more of a challenge. Anyways, we won’t be able to get any real clues until the police open up the crime scene to us again. It’s closed for the time being.”

“Why?” Emily said.

“They’re afraid there could be a gas leak, so no one is allowed to go near that place for a bit,” John explained, sipping his tea.

There was an awkward pause, during which Sherlock studied Harry and Arya, his brow furrowed slightly. Then Emily, remembering the article, asked, “What do you know about a man named James Moriarty?”

The reaction was not one Emily would have expected. John and Sherlock froze, turning to stare at her in shock and trepidation. John glanced at Sherlock, biting his lip and drumming his fingers on his knee.

After a moment, Sherlock leaned back in his chair and crossed one long leg over the other. “How do you know that name?” He was giving her that strange, unnerving look again.

“It was in the paper. The article said he was also a suspect, but that he may be dead? It was kinda confusing. Do you know who he is?” she asked.

Sherlock wouldn’t look away from her. He seemed to analyze every bit of her, never blinking. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you know if we could find him? Maybe he can give us some answers.”

Sherlock let out a cold, humorless laugh. “You don’t go looking for Moriarty, he finds you wherever you like it or not. And god help you if he does. He is a spider in the center of a giant web that controls London and its inner workings. He is insane, unstoppable even by death it seems. Yet he has one of the most brilliant minds the world has ever seen. You don’t want to go looking for him, Miss Rose.”

Emily blinked at him. She didn’t see why they seemed to be so cautious of him. People’s fear of Voldemort and Lucifer seemed clear, they were powerful magical beings, but Moriarty seemed to be human. A very smart human who was a criminal, but _human_ all the same.

“Even if he is dangerous, I still need to know what happened, and who is responsible for the bombing. Someone has to know _something_ at least.”

Sherlock got up and started pacing, his fingers still under his chin. Harry and Arya looked on with wide eyes. “Maybe. Just maybe. But no… it can’t be. What about magic?” he directed at Harry.

Harry looked startled for a moment. “Well, that’s why we took Emily in the first place. She could have used magic to blow up the building, and we had to take her in anyways for suspected murder.”

“Hold on, you’re saying _she_ can use magic?” John scoffed, nodding his head at Emily. She suspected he still didn't know or believe that magic existed.

Harry nodded, while Arya said, “Not very well, as I recall.”

Emily tilted her head at her supposed sister. _The fuck?_ What did she mean by that?

“I can look around, use some contacts, cash in some favours,” Sherlock interrupted. “I will find out who did this and keep you updated, as long as _you_ don’t go looking for Moriarty.”

“Fine," Emily snorted. "I don't need more enemies anyways."

Arya rolled her eyes.

* * *

Sherlock watched out the window as the three strangers left with the star blessed girl in the lead. John joined him, his arm brushing Sherlock’s.

“What did you think of all that?” he asked.

Sherlock was silent for a moment, his eyes training on Emily until she disappeared into the crowd completely. “I think the Game has begun.”


	9. The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another bombing hits London. Hermione, Eragon, Ron, and Castiel venture into Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long

Hermione watched the young man pace the length between the house tables, occasionally scratching his clean shaven face or glancing expacently at the great oak doors. He was very odd; different in a way from both wizards and muggles. He seemed almost ancient, like the giant beach tree on the grounds that sat next to the lake. His presence disturbed her.

“How long are they going to be?” Eragon asked, still annoyed at being left behind. Harry hadn't wanted to attract too much attention, and had only let Arya along to go see the mysterious detective because she wouldn't take no for an answer.

“They haven’t even been gone an hour, calm down,” Ron replied, not even looking up from the card game he was playing with Fred.

“They better not be much longer,” he muttered, throwing himself on the bench across from Hermione.

Most of the Order of the Phoenix members had gone with Ginny to the Burrow and were busy organizing up a defense in case Riddle planned to attack the wizarding world. So far, there had been no more news of the Dark Lord. Hermione wasn’t even sure  _ how _ they knew he was back. The rest of the teachers at Hogwarts had stayed in case anyone needed refuge in the days or weeks to come. But now, only Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Eragon were left in the Great Hall.

Eragon was studying Fred, his eyes narrowed slightly. Apparently this boy got suspicious fast. “So, I’m still a little confused. Arya didn’t really explain this whole ‘the dead are coming back’ thing to me. Did you say you don’t remember anything about how you came back?”

Fred sighed, laying down another card. “I’m not like Emily; I remember who I am. I can remember my whole life up to the point when that wall fell on me. My world just went black, and the next memory I have is waking up in front of a grave with my name on it. I had my wand with me.”

“Yeah, we, uh, buried you with it,” Ron told him, putting down his cards and turning to look at Eragon, blinking fast. “Look, we know about as much as you. People who have died recently are now appearing again, exactly as they were before they died. They don’t have any scars, blemishes- nothing. Tonks and Lupin said the same thing as Fred.  _ No one _ knows what’s going on.”

“What about Emily?” Fred asked. There was a long period of silence following his question as each person inwardly asked themselves the same question: What about Emily? Why was  _ she _ the one exception, and why did so many people seem to dislike her?

“Do you know anything about her? I mean, Arya did say they are sisters and all,” Hermione asked Eragon.

He shook his head. “No, I never even heard her name until the other day when Arya asked me to come here with her. She might have died before I was even born.”

“Weird,” mumbled Ron, glancing at Hermione. It seemed odd that Emily had come back with all these other people but couldn’t remember who she even was. Only others, like Dumbledore, could testify for her previous existence and character.

“Speaking of weird, Ron, you never told me how the Ministry knew Riddle was back. You just said he wasn’t dead anymore,” Hermione said.

“Well, the Ministry said he blew up a building or something. They said he left a message- ‘Lord Voldemort has returned’. No one’s seen him though.”

“Wait, blown up a building? Like Emily?”

“Hold on,” Eragon interjected. “You mean that someone  _ else _ is using bombs? Why hasn’t  _ that _ been on the news?”

Ron looked down at the table, deep in thought. “You’re right- there hasn’t been anymore news of other bombings. Does that mean Voldemort bombed that building in London and Emily is just getting the blame?”

“This makes  _ three _ people now accused for the bombing, and one of them can’t even remember anything,” Hermione speculated. “Something isn’t right. Why is the Ministry going after Emily if they think Voldemort did it? And why do the Muggles think that Emily did it but also named another suspect, Moriarty? Didn’t the paper say he died too?”

“Not to mention that dream Emily had. If you ask me, something else is going on, something much bigger than a bombing,” Fred said. “I don’t know what’s happened since I died, but I do remember when Voldemort first tried to take over. It wasn’t like this. I agree with Hermione, something isn’t right.”

There was a pause, then, “Do you think Emily’s dream could have something to do with all... this?” Eragon asked, gesturing vaguely with one arm at their incorporeal problems.

Ron shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I think this Satan deal is a bit shady, though. Why would he have anything to do with the bombing? And why would he appear in Emily’s dreams?”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’d rather do something besides sit around and wait for them to come back. I say we go try and find this Satan guy, see what he wants with Emily,” Eragon said.

“Where would we even start?” asked Ron.

“Those men who found Emily,” Hermione remembered. “Didn’t she say they were trying to track the Devil? They might be able to help. Could you take us to the place where Dumbledore found you?”

Eragon nodded. “Yeah, sure. It’s somewhere in a place called Kansas.”

“Great,” Fred said, standing up and stretching. “You three go look for the Devil, I’ll go home and tell everyone where you’ve gone. Try _ not  _ to go to hell.” And with that, he walked out of the great hall, waving goodbye as he left.

*********

Hermione had never been to America before. She didn’t like to travel abroad much, and whenever she did she stayed in Europe. Her first impression of Kansas was not one of delight. Its never ending farmlands filled with corn were so different from the lush, full vegetation of the countryside in London. Different too from the cool air of fall that always settled upon wizards and Muggles alike; instead it was merely lukewarm. The leaves on the few trees were turning brown and yellow, occasionally falling from the short limbs onto the ground with their brethren. Many a fallen leaf blew across the deserted paved road. The emptiness and loneliness surprised her.

They had Apperated into the forlorn state of Kansas under a stormy afternoon sky. Grey clouds the colour of smoke filled up the heavens in an endless abundance. The wind was stronger than usual, and the smell of rain pushed against the witch’s nose.

Eragon looked around, his hair whipping in the stormy wind, seemingly undisturbed at the magical transportation he had just undergone. This troubled Hermione, who was now questioning the origin of the blond man with greater interest. How was he not shocked by the magic they had performed?

“This is it. This is definitely around where we were looking for Emily. How did you do that?” he asked, turning to look at Ron and Hermione.

“What? Turn up here, so close to where you remembered?” Ron said, scratching his short stubble. “In Apperating, which is what we just did, you concentrate on the place you want to go. You just thought of this area, so when Hermione and I Apperated, we all ended up where you wanted to be.”

Eragon nodded his head thoughtfully. “Your magic is very unique. I should like to study it one day.”

“You can’t, unless you’re a wizard,” Hermione told him, glancing up at the sky uneasily. “Come on, we had better get going before this storm breaks. Lead the way, Eragon.”

As they followed the pale haired man, Hermione wondered if this was such a good idea. She didn’t dislike Eragon- he was actually quite a nice guy- but she didn’t fully trust him either. He was a stranger to them; a non wizard in a sea of problems that just might swallow them up. She wondered if following him was such a good idea.

They walked down the paved black road, never encountering any cars of people. Eragon led them down the road for about twenty minutes before they reached a four way intersection. He stopped, looking hesitantly down the three paths.

“Which way do we go?” Ron asked impatiently.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember which direction we went,” Eragon answered, pushing back his wind blown hair with his right hand. Hermione noticed, for the first time, that there was an odd mark on his palm, shaped like a spiraled oval.

Before she could question him on it, the heard a very loud  _ vrooooom _ and turned to see a black car speeding  _ very  _ fast towards them. Ron and Hermione jumped off the road, but Eragon was not as quick. The driver must have spotted him, because the car started to slow, but was going too fast to stop completely. As a result, Eragon was hit in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

“Whoa!” yelled Ron, hurrying to Eragon’s side. The Dragon Rider answered with a small moan.

Hermione tuned to the car, a black Chevy Impala, as the driver got out. It was a tall man with midnight black hair and startling blue eyes wearing a tan trench coat.

“Are you alright?” he called to them before stopping short at the sight of Eragon. “Wait, I remember you!”

Eragon moved himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as Ron supported him. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” the driver shot back. “You’re supposed to be looking for Emily.”

“Yeah, well, we found her.”

“ _ Found _ her? Why didn’t you-”

“Hold on,” Hermione interrupted, pointing at the driver. “Who are you? How do you know Eragon?”

The driver glared at Eragon for another moment before turning to her. “My name is Castiel. I gave him and his friend my car so they could look for Emily. They were supposed to tell me if they found anything, but apparently not.”

“We _ might  _ have, except we kind of ran into her unexpectedly. She’s somewhere called London right now.” Eragon grumbled, rubbing his head and wincing again.

“London _? Why _ ?”

“Long story,” Ron interrupted. “Look, we only came here to ask the people who found Emily about something we think could be important.”

Castiel looked shocked. “Sam and Dean? What could you want with them?”

“You know them? We want to ask them about a dream Emily had,” Ron told him, helping Eragon up.

“I’d like to, but I can’t. I really have to get going,” Cas said, heading back to the car.

“WHOA, whoa,” Ron said, following him with Hermione and a limping Eragon behind him. “You can’t even tell us where they are?”

Cas stopped with his hand on the car’s door. “I don’t rightly know where. That’s why I have to get going.”

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. This man might be their only chance to find out about the Devil and the reason he was interested in Emily.

“What if we help you find them? Then they could tell us what we want to know and everyone can go their separate ways. A win-win,” Hermione suggested.

Castiel studied her, his blue eyes skeptical. But behind that was a troubling, worrying expression that seemed to eat him up.

“Fine,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “But I’m warning you, this is going to be dangerous.”

“I’m used to danger. Let’s worry about my ribs instead,” groaned Eragon, climbing into the back seat with Ron, his hand on his side.

Hermione sighed and climbed into the passenger seat. There was a deep rumble and the sky broke overhead. Large drops of rain hit the windshield. Cas glanced at her, his mouth set in a thin line. Then, with another great  _ vrooooom _ , he started the engine and drove into the great, dark storm that filled up the Kansas sky.

* * *

The giant  _ boom _ that echoed through London was like a stone hitting the calm surface of a pond. Ripples spread across the surface, getting increasingly bigger the farther they spread. When the people of London heard the explosion, they screamed and panicked; the bombing of Heron Tower still fresh in their minds.

Emily stopped as her eyes found the explosion, the sound hitting her ears barely a moment later. They had only been walking for twenty-five minutes, how could they already have found trouble? Harry gave a sharp cry and clutched something in his coat pocket, his eyes darting around. Arya stood like a stature, her eyes fixed on where the explosion was like Emily. The three locked gazes then ran toward the explosion.

They flew past stopped cars, dodging panicking pedestrians running in the opposite direction. The explosion hadn't been far away- barely more than six blocks. Smoke and dust clouded their view as they neared the site. People limped from the cloud of smoke, coughing and limping from various injuries. Emily ran over to one woman stumbling out of the exploded building, her hand over her mouth.

“What happened?” she inquired, helping her to a bench.

“I… I dunno,” the woman coughed. “We were just in the building’, normal stuff, when it just suddenly, I dunno,  _ exploded _ . I couldn’t see nothin’ but found me way out the front. Some ain't so lucky.”

Arya gave the woman the cloth her hair had been tied back with. “Here, take this and cover your mouth. As soon as you can, get out of here.”

The woman nodded gratefully, pressing the poppy coloured cloth to her face. Emily looked at the thick cloud of smoke covering the building, flickers of flame breaking through at the top. A shrill scream was coming from within. Without thinking she ran toward the entrance to the building, her arm over her mouth.

“ROSE,” Harry roared, taking a step forward, but found himself blocked by a slender arm.

“Don’t go in there,” Arya shouted over all the noise. “The smoke could kill you.”

“But Emily-”

“She’ll be fine. I think.”

Arya stepped back and held her left hand up, palm facing the burning building. There was a strange mark on it, like a swirled oval. She started to mutter something under her breath and the mark began to glow.

Harry grabbed her arm and forced it down, glancing around him furtively. “What are you doing?!”

Arya tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing, and wrenched back her arm. “I’m trying to help. This spell will clear up the smoke a bit, hopefully allowing anyone inside a little more protection.”

“You can’t use magic here. There are too many people watching.”

“Do they fear it? Why can I not perform a spell?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “They don’t even know magic  _ exists _ . If they did, we would have a lot of problems. Just,  _ no magic _ .”

Arya raised an eyebrow, but didn’t try to perform anymore spells.

*********

Emily ran through the smoke and flames, her nose and mouth buried in her leather sleeve. Her eyes watered from the fumes, agitated. She pushed through the half collapsed door, trying to find the source of the screams.

She heard the sound again, straight ahead. Pushing past smoking rubble, she ran toward it. Flames danced before her, blocking her path. Without thinking, she jumped, sailing right through the fire and landing on the other side unharmed. Not stopping to contemplate the wonder of not being burned to a crisp, she continued to run toward the screams.

She finally found the source of the sound. A young boy, no more than the age of six, lay on the ground, his right leg pinned under some rubble. His dust covered face was streaked with tear lines as he looked up at her. He reached out a hand, crying, “Help me, help me please!”

She crouched down by the rubble, trying to move it so she could get his leg out. It wouldn’t budge. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker, and she heard a bellowing crash from her right. The boy was coughing terribly and Emily was having trouble breathing herself now.

Standing up, she grasped the rubble from the bottom and pushed her shoulder against it with all her strength, lifting as she did so. With a crumbling sound, it slowly started to move. She strained against it, her arms screaming, until the boy’s leg was completely free. Emily dropped the rubble, panting, her head pounding.

The boy tried to get up, but his crushed leg was obviously broken. He was crying in earnest now, interrupted at random intervals by his rasping coughing. Emily slid her arms under his legs and back and lifted him, barely feeling his weight. She ran as fast as she could back to the entrance. Just as she caught sight of the crushed doorway there was a loud  _ crack _ , and part of the ceiling caved in, spilling flaming wood and stone right in front of her.

Emily stopped, coughing, her eyes watering. Through the flames she saw the dark silhouette of a man, standing right at the entrance to the building. He looked like a demon; just a silhouette of black through the smoke, the only colour coming from his blinding white teeth as he smiled at her.

There was another rumble and the ceiling ahead completely caved in, blocking her view and the entrance. She looked around, trapped. Rubble and fire seemed to block her at every turn. She couldn’t jump through the flames with the boy, but she couldn’t go back either. Emily spotted a small ray of light cutting through the fallen ceiling. She ran toward it, almost passing out from the smoke. She pushed past the stone, cutting her shoulder on a piece of corroded metal sticking out of the pile. The boy clutched her jacket, his head buried in her shoulder.

She could see the ray of light more clearly now. She ran forward, following it, the tiny piece of sunlight creating a luminous path through the smoke and dust.

_ Almost there, _ she thought.  _ I’m almost there… _

Arya pointed at the smoking building, her eyes wide. “Look!”

Climbing out from the pile of fallen debris was Emily, covered in smoke and dust, a young boy in her arms. She hopped down from the rubble and walked toward them.

“How stupid  _ are  _ you?” Harry asked when she reached them, coughing tremendously.

“He needed help,” she croaked, looking down at the boy. “His leg, look…”

Harry inspected the blood smattered leg of the boy. It was broken- crushed, even. The loud sirens of a firetruck assaulted their ears, and a moment later they were surrounded by three men in firemen uniforms. Emily handed them the boy and they rushed off with him. Other men ran toward the building, no doubt trying to save more citizens from the fires.

“Emily, that was an incredibly brave and  _ foolish _ thing to do,” Arya apprehended her, her mouth thin and nostrils flared.

Emily tried and failed to wipe to dust and ash off her face. “Some would say bravery and foolishness is the same.”

Harry sighed. “Seriously,  _ what _ were you thinking?!”

“That I couldn’t stand here and let a child die!” Emily snapped, glaring at him. “Are you going to scold me for that?”

A loud  _ whirrrr _  interrupted their conversation, causing the three to look up. A small, glossy black plane with a large blue  _ A _ on the side was hovering above the buildings, looking for a place to land. It did so right in front of them, people clearing the street as to not be crushed. The door opened, a ramp sliding to the ground, and out stepped two men.

The first was short, with spiky brown hair, wearing a suit and sunglasses. On his wrists were two metal bands. The second was a tall blond man with icy blue eyes. He wore a green muscle shirt and a dark brown jacket. The first man pointed at Emily, commanding, “Don’t move!”

Emily stared up at them in confusion, her mouth slightly open. Who were these people?

The two men walked down to them. The first man stopped in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Did you do this?”

It took her a moment to realize he meant the burning building. “Wha-No! I didn’t do this! Why the hell do you even  _ care _ ?!”

The second man raised an eyebrow. “See, Tony? Told you she didn’t do it. She’s just a  _ kid _ .”

Tony turned to glare at him before focusing back on Emily. “Shut up, Steve. Look, we’ve been looking for you for awhile now-”

_ You and the rest of the world,  _ Emily thought.

“And we want to talk to you. Just talk, I promise.”

“Why the hell should I even listen to you?” Emily demanded.

Steve sighed. “Because your friend, Sam, told us you might be in danger. Right now, no one knows anything about you or what you want. We can’t be sure you  _ didn’t _ do these bombings, but we also can’t rule out the possibility that you are being blamed for this. Especially after what Sam told us.”

“Wait, Sam’s with you?  _ Why _ ?”

“Long story,” Tony said impatiently. “Are you going to come with us or not?”

The sound of police sirens reached their ears and Emily suddenly became aware that she, a prime suspect in the recent bombing, was standing right in front of a recently exploded building. She really wanted to know how Sam had come into contact with these people and what he had told them about her.

“Fine,” she sighed, walking toward the plane. “Who are you people anyways?”

“I’m Tony Stark, and that’s Steve Rodgers. We’re the Avengers.”

“No idea what that is,” Emily said, following them up the ramp, Arya and Harry behind her. “And I honestly don’t care.”

It had been one hell of a day.

* * *

Cas stopped in front of an old warehouse compound, quickly turning off the engine and getting out of the old car. Hermione did the same, opening the door for the still hurt but slightly better Eragon, glancing around. It had taken them two hours to get there with Cas, never going under 80 miles per hour. She felt slightly carsick.

Castiel led them down the row of rusty storage compounds, no one in sight. They stopped in front of one with a large red three on it. Leaning against the door was a tall, good looking man wearing a blazer over a white t-shirt, talking to a ginger woman sporting an ankle length black dress.

Cas stopped at the sight of the man. “ _ Balthazar _ ?”

The good looking man looked up, a wide grin spreading across his face at the sight of him. “Cassy! So good to see you- alive and all. How you been?”

Castiel hugged him, surprising Hermione. She didn’t think he was the huggable type. “You’re back,” Cas noted, stepping back.

Balthazar nodded. “Yup.” He had a British accent, mixed with a slightly French pronunciation on the hard consonants. “Been trying to find you. Heaven is a  _ mess _ , can you believe? Just a bunch of brought back to life angels all mumbling and bumping into each other. I thought it best to try and fine you. Luckily, I ran into charming Rowena and she brought me here.”

The ginger woman, Rowena, nodded. “He made quite the case. I’ve brought what you asked for, dear. Summoning a portal to Hell isn’t too tricky, and I’d do anything to save poor Dean.”

“Wait, we’re going to  _ Hell _ ?” Ron floundered.

Cas turned to them, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yes. While searching for Emily, my friend Dean was captured by demons. I’ve come here to rescue him. I did tell you it would be dangerous.”

“Hell is a real place?” Eragon asked, adjusting his sword belt nervously.

Rowena snorted. “Yes dearie, though it isn’t pleasant, believe me.”

“Do you still want to come?” Cas asked.

Hermione glanced over at Ron. His expression was uneasy, clouded with doubt. However, if they wanted to find Sam and Dean, they had to help Cas.

“Yes. Let’s go,” Hermione answered, her jaw set.

“Good,” Cas turned to Balthazar and held out a slip of paper. “I can’t help with Heaven right now, or explain about the dead. If you want some answers, could you try and find the people on this list and bring them to the bunker? I can try to explain everything then.”

Balthazar took the paper, scanning it. His eyes widened slightly. “I’ll try, Cas. But be careful there, won’t you? I know he’s down there and God knows what he wants. And I understand,” he said, grabbing Cas’s arm as he started to walk past. “About waiting. Dean always comes first, I know that.”

Cas nodded and started to follow Rowena to the warehouse, Hermione, Ron, and Eragon in suite. At the entrance, he turned and said, “I’m sorry, Balthazar. I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”

Balthazar smirked at him. “Nothing to apologize for, Cas. I’m sure you know what it’s like.” And, with a  _ whoosh _ , he disappeared.

“Wha-” Eragon started, before shaking his head and following Castiel into the warehouse, giving up on getting any answers.

Rowena had drawn a complicated circle on the wall in white chalk. She busied herself with putting some vague ingredients in a cup, muttering old words over it. She beckoned them over, red smoke now rising from the goblet.

“Now when I open up the entrance to Hell, it will only stay open for a short amount of time. You must be quick if you don’t want to be trapped.” She caught the annoyed look on Castiel’s face and rolled her eyes. “It’s the only fast way to get there without catching  _ his _ attention.”

Hermione wondered who this “he” was. Both Balthazar and Rowena seemed to be afraid of him, and seem to expect they would meet him down in Hell.

“Let’s just go,” Cas muttured.

Rowena faced the circle on the wall, chanting over the goblet. There was a sudden bright red light and all the sound was sucked out of the room. A moment later, there was a tall oval in the wall, showing a dark staircase leading down.

Cas drew a short metal blade from his belt. “Let’s go.”

Eragon drew his sword, Hermione and Ron their wands. They followed him down the dark staircase into the depths of the unknown, Rowena watching them go.

They seemed to walk down forever, the darkness getting deeper and deeper. Hermione started to get chilly and wrapped her arms around herself as they walked. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to be sweating. He pushed his damp hair from his head and asked, “Why’s it so hot?”

Cas glanced back at them. “Hell is designed to fit itself to each person’s worst sensations and memories. If you don’t like the cold you will be chilly. If you hate the desert you will be as dry as a shell. The only thing Hell always is, is dark.”

They pressed on for an infenistiale amount of time before finally reaching flat ground. Hermione squinted to see, the only light coming from tiny flaming torches. Shadows creeped along red bricked walls covered with frost and ice. Thick fog blocked what little view they had ahead. Tunnels and doorways seemed to be the only structures that made up the dark, uninviting landscape of Hell.

“This place looks like the basement in Malfoy Manor,” Ron murmured besides Hermione. He must have been seeing something different from her, something that brought back bad memories. She knew all too well how he felt. His hand slipped into hers and she felt a bit better. This place was alien, scary, and desolate, but at least she had Ron with her.

Eragon stepped to her other side, his lips pursed. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” he asked them softly.

“It’s too late to turn back if we aren’t,” Hermione answered. She studied the stranger. He had followed them, two strangers he had met merely a day ago, into  _ Hell _ on a hunch. Maybe he could be trusted, given time.

The four of them faced the darkness together, weapons drawn and faces grim.

“This way,” Cas told them, walking straight ahead. They followed him closely, not wanting to get lost in the fog.

Faint screams of pain and madness sometimes reached their ears, unnerving all except Castiel. He seems too focused on the task at hand to notice the other’s discomfort. After a turning down a few tunnels and doors, Hermione started to hear a clamour of voices from ahead. Cas gestured for them to be silent, and they crept forward.

They stopped next to a large column, as thick as three men side by side. They were on the edge of an immense throne room, looking down at a strange scene. Eight men dressed in black suits stood in a line facing a large black and red throne. It seemed to grow from the ground, made of black stone as dark as ebony, with blood red glass stabbing out from it. On the throne sat a man with dirty blond hair and chiseled jaw, wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. He was directing the men in front of him, his words not reaching them from their vantage point. He admitted a dark and unnerving presence, as though he was holding a chainsaw in front of a crowd. His smile was all teeth.

“Who is that?” Ron whispered to Castiel.

Cas gritted his teeth, staring at the man on the throne. “That’s Lucifer, the Devil.”

There was silence. Then, “You can’t be serious,” Eragon said quietly.

“Believe me, I am. Don’t raise his attention, the fact that he hasn’t sensed me yet is already too suspicious. The men there are demons.”

His eyes scanned the room and fell upon a column on the opposite side of the room, behind one of the tables by the lined up men. Tied to it was a dark haired man struggling to escape his bonds. Castiel’s eyes were pull of pain and longing as he stared at the man, and Hermione wondered about the history between the two men.

“Is that Dean?” she asked softly.

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Ok, here’s the plan: You and Ron stay here. Eragon and I will sneak over to Dean. When I give the signal, you will create a distraction and-”

“CASTIEL,” a voice roared, interrupting him. They looked down and saw Lucifer smiling up at them. The demons all had blades in their hands, and Dean had frozen at the outburst. His gaze found them and his eyes widened. His shook his head mutely, his mouth gagged.

“It’s so nice of you to join us! I knew you would come. Where’s Emily?”

Cas dropped down to the wide room, his eyes never leaving Lucifer’s face. “She’s not here.”

The Devil pouted. “What I pity. I  _ was _ hoping for someone with more power, but an angel will do for now.” He snapped his fingers and the demons charged.

Hermione did something stupid. She attacked. She and Eragon yelled in defiance and jumped off the ledge, landing besides Castiel and attacking the men. Ron scrambled to do the same. Eragon charged, holding his sword, and shouted, “BRISINGR”. White hot flames enveloped his dark blue sword and he started to slice and jab at the three demons attacking him. The other five ran at Ron, Hermione, and Cas. Hermione and Ron shot spells at them, while Cas stabbed one and, dodging the rest, ran toward Dean.

Lucifer tisked and lazily waved a hand . Cas flew backwards, hitting the wall with a groan. Eragon, who had dispatched the three demons attacking him, yelled and charged the Devil. He held out his palm and shouted something, and a chair flew from the table and hit Lucifer in the face. He then started to attack. Eragon’s swordsmanship was excellent; Lucifer was having trouble dodging his attacks at first.

Cas picked himself up from the ground and toward Dean. A trickle of blood ran down his head, caused by its impact with the wall. He stopped in front of the hunter and gently took off the gag.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Cas shot back, untying him from the column.

Dean turned to face him, cocking his head slightly. “You’re bleeding.”

“What else is new,” Cas grumbled, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go.”

He waved at Hermione, who had just knocked out a demon with a fist to his face. She and Ron had stopped the rest.

“Let’s go!” he shouted. “Eragon!”

Eragon was having a bit of trouble. Lucifer was blocking every jab, stroke, or stab he aimed. He almost seemed to be doing it with ease now. “Go!” he shouted, pressing harder. “I’ll meet you back at the stairs!”

Not wanting to waste time arguing, Cas started to run, Dean right next to him. Ron and Hermione followed rather reluctantly.

Lucifer yelled, blasting Eragon back a few steps. He raised his hand, the gedwëy ignasia on his palm starting to glow.

“Stenr huildr!” Eragon commanded, and the stone floor around Lucifer rose up, encasing his legs and torso in rock. Knowing he wouldn’t be trapped long, Eragon ran after the others, stumbling after the loss of energy from his spell. He stopped in the corridor, suddenly realizing he didn’t know where to go. He tore through a door on his right, running down the corridor as fast as he could. Heading left, he burst through another door into a small room.

It had a stone ceiling with one light bulb hanging from it. A wooden table was set against the wall across from him, papers and books strewn across it. He approached the table, confused as to why this room was here. On top of the mass of papers was a single sheet of looseleaf paper. On it was what appeared to be a list of names. Eragon picked it up, studying it. The only name he recognised on it was  _ Emily Rose, _ underlined twice.

His head jerked up as he heard someone calling his name. Stuffing the list in his pocket, Eragon ran out of the small room, following the voice. He ended up finding the others; Hermione had been the calling for him.

“About time, let’s get out of here,” Dean said, starting to climb up the stairs. The rest of them followed, running up the dark stairway. After awhile, they exited into the warehouse, breathing in the fresh air. Rowena stood up from the chair she had been in, and when all of them had exited the starwell, she flicked her hand and closed the doorway.

The five of them stood panting in front of the witch, clutching their sides. Eragon sat against the wall, coughing as each breath hit his hurt ribs. Cas knelt next to him and pressed a hand to his forehead. His eyes glowed and Eragon felt the pain subside.

“I never said sorry for hitting you with a car, did I?” The angel said, helping him up.

“What now?” asked Ron, running a hand through his damp red hair.

“Well, we need to go find Sam. He’s in New York. Once we find him, we can tell you what you want to know,” Cas told them.

Dean nodded. “New York, here we come.”

The plane ride was uncomfortable to say the least. Emily and Tony were annoyed to be in such close proximity to each other. Arya always marveled how quickly her sister could rub others the wrong way, always unwelcoming and sarcastic to anyone she met.

Emily was still covered in ash and dust, though she had wiped most of it off her face by now. Arya still thought her sister had been extremely foolish to go running into a burning building, even if it was to save a child. Something was bothering her, that was obvious to Arya. She had known Emily long enough to sense when something was amiss. Something had happened in that building that had upset her in someway, but for now Arya didn’t think she would get to know.

There had been no time to talk to her sister since they had left. The constant motion of events had prevented her from telling Emily about her past. The longer she waited, the more she seemed to hesitate. If Emily truly didn’t remember anything would she be happier?

Her attention was drawn to Emily as the plane hit a spot of turbulence and swerved sharply, causing her to grab her upper left arm.

“Emily, is there something wrong with your arm?” she asked, concerned.

Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s just a scratch I got from some rubble. It’ll be fine.”

“Not if it gets infected,” Steve Rogers said, going over to her with some bandages. “Take off your jacket and let me clean it.”

She sighed but did as he asked. As Emily threw her jacket next to her, Harry pointed at her arm and exclaimed, “Where did you get  _ that _ ?”

Emily looked down, frowning. On her left forearm was a dark black tattoo of a snake coming out of a skull. “I dunno. I didn’t notice it until now, and we all know I can’t remember how I got it.”

Harry looked extremely troubled. “That’s the dark mark. It is  _ not _ good if you have that.”

“Why? What does it mean?” Tony asked, intrigued, from where he was sitting.

“There’s this really bad wizard named Voldemort. Not good news at all. That is his chosen mark, used to spread fear. All of his closest followers, his inner circle, have that tattoo on their arms.”

Emily tilted her head at Harry. “Voldemort? Isn’t that the same person you guys were blaming for the bombing along with me?”

Harry nodded. “And if you have that mark, well…”

“Then I must be in cahoots with him? That before I died, I was one of his followers? Who knows, Harry. Certainly not me, but I would love to find out,” Emily told him calmly.

She didn’t seem upset at all at the news that she was sporting the mark of a dangerous wizard on her arm. She didn’t really seem to care.

_ What the hell did you do when you left _ ? Arya thought, staring at her sister. When Emily had been sent off to school in Midgard, they had had no idea what she was doing until she died. They had buried her there and left, and Arya had never thought she would ever see her sister again. Since the moment she left the forest to the other day when Arya saw her again, Emily’s life was a complete and utter mystery. And since Emily herself could not remember a thing about her past, anything could be possible.

“So, where exactly are we heading?” Emily asked Tony once Steve was done bandaging her arm.

“To our compound in New York. Your friend, Sam, is waiting there,” he answered.

Emily raised one lava-coloured eyebrow. “How did Sam meet you guys, exactly?”

“He was brought there by a member,” Steve said. “He had some pretty interesting things to say about you, as well as some other topics. Supernatural creatures, for example. The Devil.”

“Wait, what are the Avengers?” Harry asked.

“It’s a team of, well, superheros. We save the world,” Steve informed them. “Tony and I are the founders. We also try to keep up with wordly threats, which is why we were in London looking for you, Emily. A couple of others were searching in America. We wanted to find you after that bombing. We were told by a team member that you might not be fully human, so we had to make sure you weren’t a threat.”

“I’m sure finding me in front of that building didn’t help much,” grumbled Emily.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, well, we’ll decide what to do when we get back to the compound. It shouldn’t be long, this plane can go over 750 miles an hour. I designed it myself.”

Arya didn't’ know what that meant, but Harry seemed impressed. All of these new machines and technologies seemed so unreal to her, like a dream a child invented.

“Wake me up when we get there,” Emily yawned, closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat.

*********

Emily opened her eyes to a dim pink sun setting on a dusky sky, the stars starting to creep out in tiny silver bunches. A large compound composed of a few buildings and training facilities was visible beneath them. A large blue  _ A _ , like the one on the plane, was set on the side of the largest building. They set down on a landing pad just to the side of it. 

Emily followed the others off the plane, a chilly breeze playing with her hair. Autumn was much more present here than in Kansas. They entered the large building through a set of glass doors that opened automatically for them.

Stark took off his sunglasses and turned to study her. “Welcome to the Avenger’s Facility, Miss Rose.”

Rogers led them through the massive compound, built like an expensive training facility combined with a business building, to a large room with a kitchen, a comfy sitting area with couches and chairs, and a fireplace. One wall was made of nothing but glass, so they could see the sun setting through the trees. A couple of people milled about in the room. A boy sat on the kitchen counter talking to a tall man with long, black hair pulled into a man bun with a metal arm. Sam Winchester sat in one of the chairs, chatting to a curly haired man wearing glasses and a purple shirt. A tall, extremely muscular man with short blond hair stood at the glass wall, staring at the sunset, deep in thought. One of his eyes was covered with a dark eyepatch.

He turned as they walked in, and his electric blue eye locked with Emily’s silver ones. He walked toward them, never breaking his gaze. Emily opened her mouth to say hullo, who the hell are you as he reached them, but he suddenly grabbed her neck and pinned her against the wall.

“THOR!” the purple shirt man exclaimed, jumping up. The young boy in the kitchen dropped his bagel, wide eyed.

Thor’s eye were full of suspicion and just a bit of unfounded anger. “What the  _ hell _ are you?” he growled. He looked her up and down, his scowl deepening with each passing second.

“Ack… don’t… know…” Emily gasped, unable to breath properly.

His grip tightened. “If you’re working for Loki-”

Emily’s eyes flashed and she suddenly kicked him away. As he stumbled backwards, she grabbed his arm and pinned him face first against the ground with her knee pressing against his back, his arm twisted across his shoulders.

“No,” she growled. “I’m not. But how did  _ you _ know?”

Thor laughed without humour. “Don’t be stupid. He left to find you, didn’t he? I know what you are, Rose. I know what you can do.”

“Tell me then, because I certainly don’t,” she hissed.

“Alright, let him go,” Rogers said, dragging Emily off Thor. The girl threw back her head, glaring at the ceiling, her feet dragging against the floor.

Thor got up, glaring at her. “Why else would he leave? I thought he had changed, but apparently not.”

“I am  _ not _ working with him,” she spat, wrenching her arm from Rogers. “I am not working with  _ anyone _ , much to the surprise of everyone I meet. I have not done anything wrong, yet you still seem to be mad at me. Why was Loki even after me?”

He blinked. “Don’t expect me to believe  _ you _ don’t know.”

Anger that had been slowly building up ever since she woke up in that field filled her like water rushing past a dam. It was anger at being threatened, questioned without reason, and generally treated with great suspicion. It was anger at her ignorance of her own life.

“I DON’T KNOW,” she roared. “I don’t remember  _ anything _ about my past. You’re not the first person to say something like that to me, and you probably won’t be the last! I don’t know what the  _ hell _ is happening right now and being attacked isn’t helping! For goodness sake, I’ve been threatened so much in the past few days I don’t even know if I’ll live in time to see tomorrow. So either tell me  _ why _ you just attacked me, or shut. The hell. UP.”

Silence enveloped the room as she finished. Thor look slightly taken aback.

“Let’s sit down,” Arya said, grabbing Emily and leading her over to the chairs. Sam stared up at her, eyes widened in surprise. Emily sat across from him, Harry settling himself in a chair next to her, Arya standing at her shoulder with her arms crossed. The boy at the kitchen counter was goggling at her.

“How do you know this Loki guy?” Arya asked, every inch of her radiating frustration.

Emily glared at her. “When I left Sam and Dean, he found me in a diner in Nebraska. He told me who he was and offered to help me. I refused. He said he wouldn’t be the only one to come after me, and he was right.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, leaning forward slightly.

“You were right about Lucifer, Sam. He came to be in a dream the other night.”

Sam shook his head sadly. “Yeah, I thought he might have done something like that. He has Dean.”

“ _ What _ ? Since when?”

“Last night. Don’t worry, our friend Cas is going after him. I would have gone, but I’m being kept here for, what did you call it?  _ My safety. _ I didn’t even ask to some here,” Sam shot at Thor.

Thor sighed. “I already said I was sorry. If I had realized who you were, I wouldn’t have blamed you of working with Loki. I just saw you and your brother helping Emily and I jumped to conclusions. But when I found out you were a Winchester, I couldn’t let you leave.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “How do you even know me?”

Thor looked surprised. “You don’t remember? The hotel, when the Devil was trying to start the Apocalypse? I was one of the gods present.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said, his face paling. “Yeah, I remember.”

Stark was staring at Emily with an appraising look. “So let’s get everyone on the same page. Monsters and supernatural creatures are real, as well as the Devil. Loki escaped and immediately went after Emily, who ran away and ended up in London with those two,” he pointed at Arya and Harry. “Two bombings have happened since you came back from the dead, Emily, and in the more recent one we found you right in front of the building. You were known, before you died, as the suspected bomber of Shell Centre, but were never caught or convicted. There has been only one other suspect in these more recent bombings: The criminal James Moriarty, who I have not been able to get any information on.”

“Actually, there’s another suspect,” Harry interrupted. “The wizard Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort. He has also returned from the dead, and we think he may have something to do with this.”

“Wait, wizards exist?” Rogers asked, stunned.

To Harry’s surprise, Thor answered him. “Yes. This boy and Emily are both wizards. There is a very large number of them in the world but they are kept secret. You would be advised  _ not _ to go spreading this information around.”

“Cool!” the boy at the counter yelled. The man with the metal arm was studying them, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Wait, how do you know all of this stuff? About wizards and demons and everything?” questioned Harry.

Thor’s gaze returned to the window where the sun had completely set. Silver stars punctured the inky black sky, lighting up the heavens. “In Asgard, my father had the responsibility of keeping up with threats across the nine worlds. As his heir, I was aware of the many mysteries that surrounded this world and others. Wizards, the Devil, monsters, I knew of them all.”

“So what-” Emily began, but at that moment a small  _ beep-beep _ sound came from Stark’s pocket. He pulled out a phone with its screen flashing.

“There’s two men at the gate, asking to be let in,” he informed them.

Sam stood up and took the phone from him. “It’s Cas and Dean! Let them in.”

Stark shrugged and did what was asked. A few moments later, the door opened, and Dean walked in with a man Emily had never seen before. He had midnight black hair and sky-blue eyes. He was wearing a tan trench coat over a small suit and a backwards blue tie.  

The strange man glanced around the room, taking in everything. His eyes settled on Emily, and he froze. “It’s you.”

Emily stood up, facing him. “Yup, it’s me.”

He kept staring at her. She thought he was going to yell at her, punch her, or starting going off about how terrible she was like everyone else had done so far.

Instead, he held out a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She shook hands with him, completely taken aback. “Um… yeah, nice to meet you too.”

Arya rolled her eyes, mumbling something Emily couldn’t hear.

“Good to see you again, kid,” Dean said, his eyes on Thor, his words for Emily. “Nice to see you’re not dead.”

Sam hugged his brother. “The same goes for you.”

Dean patted his back, his eyes never leaving the god. Thor himself was studying him with a confused look on his face.

Cas turned to Harry. “You must be Harry Potter. Your friends told me about you. They were going to come here with me, but they received an urgent message and had to go.”

“I’d better go too then,” Harry said, but was stopped by Stark.

“Not so fast. Before anyone leaves, we need to figure out what to do with  _ her _ ,” he pointed at Emily, who rolled her eyes. “You all get a say because you can testify for her whereabouts from the past few days.”

Banner, the man in the purple shirt, studied Emily. “What were you doing to London, again?”

“I was wandering around when I noticed someone following me. I ran into a flat to lose them, and I met the detective in charge of the bombing cases,” she said, sitting down again.

“And he just… let you go?” Rogers asked.

Emily sighed. “Yes, he didn’t seem to think I had anything to do with the bombings. He said he would help me find out who  _ is _ doing them, though.”

“So how did you two find her?” Stark asked Sam and Dean.

This led to a very long explanation of the past few days, with Emily and the others recounting their experiences to the Avengers. Emily told them everything except the man she had seen in the burning building. She didn’t know who he was, and didn’t think the others would be too pleased by him.

“So, now that you know what’s happened, do you really think I bombed those buildings?” Emily asked, tired.

Harry was looking at her with a newfound respect. She guessed that the past few hours, as well as her life story, seemed to have finally convinced him that she wasn’t all that bad. Rogers and Stark were considering her as well, their gazes less suspicious and more curious. Sam and Dean seemed more concerned than anything. Thor was the only one who was still looking at her with more caution than curiosity.

Arya’s eyes were the ones Emily focused on the most. Her leaf green irises held worry and fear in their depths. Arya knew something the others didn’t, something she hadn't told Emily yet.

Emily’s story could considered to be full of holes by someone who hadn't met her, but everyone in the room had to admit that it seemed highly improbable that this  _ child _ had bombed two of London’s most prominent buildings in a span of two days while being closely supervised (most the of time). Still, the tiny embers of suspicion and doubt lay in every one of them, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation.

“Your story is a compelling one,” Rogers said after everyone had finished speaking. “I for one don’t think you’re guilty.”

Stark nodded. “Even I have to admit you probably had no cause in these bombings, but there is still something happening with you. Loki wouldn’t go after you if he didn’t know you.”

“I agree,” Cas said. “And after what Lucifer said about you, well, let’s just say you better watch your back. Something’s going on that we don’t know about, and I’m afraid of what could happen if we don’t find out.”

Thor said nothing. He just stared at Emily in the same way Sherlock had, as though he had seen her before but couldn’t place where.

Emily stood up, stretching. “Well if you’re not going to chuck me in prison, I think I’ll go. I for one am not going to sit around until someone tries to come kill me.” She didn’t care about their decision anyways. Even if they had decided she was guilty, she would have just run away.

They didn’t matter to her.

“Hold on,” Stark said, pulling a phone out of his pocket and tossing it to her. “We won’t shadow you unless you give us reason to, but we should still keep in touch. Call us if you need any help, or if you see Loki.”

Emily stuffed the phone in her pocket and headed for the door. Arya, Dean, Sam, Cas, and Harry followed her.

As she reached the door, Thor called out, “Guard your fire, Rose. You’re going to need it.”

Emily turned to meet his gaze. How did he know about the fire inside of her? His blue eye, like a fork of lightning across the dark sky, was set with grim determination.

She slowly nodded at him, then turned and left the sitting room of the Avengers.

As they walked out into the cool night air, Harry said, “I have to return to Hogwarts. If Hermione and Ron left for a message, it must have been something big. You can come if you want, Emily.”

She shook her head. “Maybe soon, but for now I want to see what Lucifer wants with me. I’ll try to find out about my past, and Hogwarts might help with that.”

Harry nodded at her and turned to go, but before he could take more than a few steps, Sam grabbed his arm. “Could I go? I know magic exists, I’ve seen people use it before and I’m really interested in this school. It could have some really useful lore about the Devil, and I’d love to see it.”

Harry studied him. “No Muggle has ever set foot in Hogwarts as far as I can tell. But then, you aren’t exactly a milkman, and these are  _ not _ normal circumstances. I guess we can try.”

His troubled expression told her that he was getting increasingly desperate. If the dead were really back for good, with the Devil and a dark wizard at the lead, than old rules didn’t apply. Surviving was all that mattered.

“Fine. Sam, you go to the wizard school and see what you can find. Cas and I will take Emily and Arya with us,” Dean said.

“If she has to come,” Emily mumbled.

They parted their separate ways, each one thinking about what was to come.


End file.
